Rogue Lover
by Nocte Ambulavero
Summary: Katagaria leopard regis to the Omegrion Stefan Kouris is a Were who has guarded the secrets and horrors of his past for three centuries. But when he meets his human mate, Kira, he discovers that even the most scarred of hearts can love again. DH and characters not mine.
1. Chapter 1

"Bad night?"

"Bad century."

Aimee Peletier, the bearswan who worked as a waitress at Sanctuary, laughed appreciatively before moving to another table.

As he watched her move away, Stefan picked up his drink and downed it in one shot. The tequila burned as it went down his throat, and he bared his teeth in distaste. He hated getting drunk. He hated being disoriented, dreaded the hangovers. But when he was drunk he couldn't remember who he was, and that he craved more than anything.

"You're going to regret it later."

Stefan looked up, irritated, at the sound of Draven Hawke's voice. The Katagaria falcon sounded both amused and cautionary, though his piercing yellow eyes gave away no emotion. Draven sat down on the bar stool next to Stefan, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You know what day it is," Stefan muttered, pouring himself another tumbler. "I have every right to get raging drunk tonight."

"I'm just saying."

"Well then shut up."

Thoroughly intent on getting inebriated to the point he couldn't remember his own name, he downed the amber liquid. But though he'd ordered alcohol strong enough to get even a Were drunk, his mind was still crystal clear.

"This isn't going to help you," Draven said quietly. "You know it won't."

Stefan averted his eyes.

"I don't want to remember what happened three minutes ago let alone three centuries ago," he answered, jaw tight. "And _you_ know I won't forget any other way."

"Do you really have to forget?"

Stefan gripped his glass convulsively.

"I would kill myself if I thought it'd mean the memories would leave," he finally said. "But we both know when I go to Hades the bastard is going to spend the rest of eternity torturing me with their faces."

Draven sighed.

"Fine. Destroy what little part of a soul you have left. Just don't expect me to pick up the pieces."

He left, but Stefan could sense that he'd only moved across the bar.

"Idiot," he muttered.

Why Draven insisted on remaining his friend he'd never understand, though the part of him that was still capable of emotion was vaguely appreciative. He owed his life to the Peregrine, and he'd never forget it.

Sighing, he pushed aside his glass and picked up the bottle. He let his eyes wander around the room as he took periodical drinks, pretending he didn't see Draven when the falcon gave him a sarcastic wave from the back corner. Instead, he faced the entrance to the bar.

It was easy to tell the tourists from the locals, the prior wide eyed as they took in the Weres that filled the room, the latter either accustomed or unimpressed. Besides, the Were males in the bar left the local females well enough alone, not willing to get attached to someone who would be around long enough for it to matter.

Stefan frowned, wondering why the thought of a one night stand bothered him so much. With his past, he should've been thanking the gods that his looks could've probably gotten him any woman in the room, and that they wouldn't have cared if he'd used them for sex and nothing else. Instead, he found himself moving instinctively away from everyone who came near him, his lip lifting in a snarl of warning when a curious passerby got too close.

But as the night wore on and his senses got foggier with alcohol, he found he didn't quite mind the way a blonde whose name he didn't even know was pressing against his side. He took another sip of his drink, vodka now, and slipped an arm around her waist, still watching the door. He'd seen various people he knew, other members of the Omegrion and a few Dark-Hunters as well.

He didn't recognize most of them though, and had no inclination or interest towards any of them. At least until a group of women walked in, the three of them talking and laughing. He barely spared a glance for the first two, both as blonde and unremarkable as the one who was now attempting to scoot herself into his lap. But the third…

"Damn," he muttered.

Her chocolate brown waves were twisted into a messy bun and held in place with a pencil. She wore no makeup from what he could see, her pale grey eyes large in a delicate face. She wasn't particularly tall or curvy, and her clothes weren't sexy or revealing in the least, yet there was something about her that drew his attention instantly.

His eyes followed her as she and her friends sat down at one of the tables on the far side of the room. He noted that she ordered water while her friends ordered martinis, watched the way she shook her head when one of them offered her a cigarette. She twirled a curl absently around her finger, seemingly only half focused on their conversation.

The way he was drawn to her made absolutely no sense, but judging by the sudden tightness in his pants, his body didn't care if it made sense or not. He wanted her with a sudden, vicious hunger that intrigued him as much as it irritated him.

"What are you looking at?"

Stefan sighed in annoyance, pushing the woman - Ashley had she said her name was? - off of himself.

"Go home," he deadpanned. "You're too drunk for your own good."

And he wasn't drunk enough. At least not enough to stop himself watching every one of his new fascination's movements for the next hour or so. There was some undefinable appeal in the way she seemed lost in her own world. Her unawareness and innocence were screamingly obvious, and Stefan found himself wanting her more with each passing second.

When her girlfriends got up to go the bathroom, she waved for them to go without her. She was still caught up in her own thoughts, her gaze wandering around the room. When she caught the eye of one of the men at the bar, a human tourist, she smiled politely before turning away. But the man took it is as an invitation, and much to Stefan's displeasure, he stood and walked over to her table.

"The name's Harrison," the man said.

Stefan growled unconsciously. The part of him that was currently aroused as hell was also thoroughly against another male anywhere near his woman.

_My woman_?

He was equal parts wary and amused with his sudden possessiveness of her, but he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't let another man have her. He watched in satisfaction as she scooted slightly away from Harrison, a smile that was polite and nothing more on her face.

"Kira," she answered.

"Kira? Pretty name for a pretty girl."

Stefan fought the urge to gag.

"You from around here?" Harrison continued.

Kira nodded absently.

"I'm from New York. Big city. I'm a records dealer."

He sat down at one of the seats her friends had vacated, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You here alone?"

"I'm here with friends."

"I don't see them anywhere."

Harrison made a big show of looking around the bar, a sleazy smile on his face.

"I could keep you company if you want."

"I'm sorry, but my friends will be back soon."

"How about we get to know each other a bit before that?"

Kira tilted her head, her brow furrowing just the tiniest bit.

"I don't think that would be a good idea Mr. Harrison-"

"Why not?"

He leaned across the table and grabbed the hand that she'd left resting next to her drink. Stefan felt a low snarl work its way out of his chest.

"I think it's a great idea," Harrison pushed. "Come on, just a few drinks."

"I don't drink alcohol Mr. Harrison. Now please, let go of my hand."

"No alcohol? That's cute. I like cute."

His grip tightened, and Stefan saw Kira flinch in pain.

His control, weakened by alcohol, snapped.

Forgetting that he'd come to Sanctuary to forget the outside world, that he'd sworn long ago not to care about anyone or anything, he found himself on his feet and moving across the room.

"Come on Kira. One drink-"

"I'm sorry I'm late, dearling."

As he reached them, Stefan moved to stand behind Kira, putting his hands on her shoulders. Her skin was warm beneath his and he felt another wave of arousal go through his body. More potent than that though, was her scent. A mix of freesia, caramel, and scented children's markers that had him hard as a diamond in seconds.

"Hey, this is a private conversation," Harrison snapped, still gripping Kira's hand.

Stefan ignored him.

"Is this man bothering you?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder gently.

"I'm not bothering anyone," Harrison objected.

Pretending he hadn't heard anything, Stefan brushed Kira's hair away from her neck.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" he pressed, feathering a touch over her throat.

"I don't know who the hell you think you are-"

Baring his teeth, Stefan sidestepped the table and grabbed Harrison's arm, twisting it behind his back until he let go of Kira wrist with a pained yelp.

"I do believe my woman asked you to let go," he said in a dark voice. "Now leave. If you touch her again I'll snap every bone in your arm and quite possibly the rest of your body too."

Looking like he wanted to say something, but seeming to think better of it, Harrison grabbed his beer and stomped back off to the bar.

"Th-thank you."

Stefan turned to see Kira looking at him with a mix of gratitude and surprise, her grey eyes wide. Up close, she was even more alluring, and he let his gaze slide hotly over her, enjoying her blush as he did so.

"My pleasure," he murmured.

"Kira!"

Stefan curled his lip in distaste as Kira's friends returned.

"We saw that guy-"

"What happened-"

"Are you okay-"

"Who is _this_?"

Both of them caught sight of him at the same time, their gazes appreciative.

"I'm a friend of Kira's," he put in smoothly. "I was just about to take her home, unless you had other plans for the evening…"

He let his sentence trail off, but he made it abundantly clear by his tone that his taking Kira with him wasn't an option.

"Oh, nothing important," one of them assured him.

"We were just going to take a cab home. It's totally fine."

The two of them walked away giggling, throwing looks over their shoulders and motioning for Kira to call them.

"Come on," he said when they were finally alone, holding out a hand for her. "I just promised I'd see you home safely,"

"I don't even know your name," she mused, reaching to twirl a strand of hair around her finger again.

"Stefan Kouris."

"Kira de Luca."

She smiled sweetly, and the look when straight to his already throbbing erection.

"Mr. Kouris-"

"Stefan, please."

"Thank you for rescuing me Stefan."

He felt another shudder of arousal go through him at the sound of her saying his name. The slight hint of an Italian accent in her voice was like a physical caress as she said it, and he was aching to hear her say it again, preferably while she was naked and underneath him.

"But you don't have to take me home," she continued. "I'm sure your family is waiting for you-"

"I have no family."

He said it matter-of-factly, not willing to show a stranger how much it still pained him that he didn't, even if that stranger was Kira. Even if the sorrow on his behalf that lit her eyes made him feel inexplicably tender towards her. No one knew about his past, and those who did responded with either pity or disgust. Never empathy. Not before her.

"Stefan-"

"I don't dwell on it," he interrupted before she could throw his already unstable emotions even further out of balance.

He took her hand in his and pulled her to his feet, tilting her chin up with the other.

"I have no family or friends to speak of that will worry about me," he told her quietly. "No one will miss me if I disappear for a while. Besides, the streets aren't exactly safe for a woman by herself at night."

He bent and brushed his lips over her ear.

"Especially a woman as beautiful as you."

He could feel the slight tremor that went through her, and he lingered with his body pressed against hers longer than he should have. When he finally pulled back, he slipped an arm around her waist and without waiting for an answer, pulled her towards the door.

Dev Peletier, Aimee's brother and one of the bouncers at Sanctuary, nodded to him on their way out, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Ignoring him, Stefan guided Kira out of the bar and into the parking lot. After a quick second, he turned down the street and started walking to where her scent still lingered from earlier in the evening.

"You're incredibly forward Stefan," she said after a few minutes of silence.

He smiled crookedly.

"I'm usually not."

In fact, he spent most of his time making sure he never came in contact with anyone, except the occasional Omegrion meeting he had no choice but to attend. He couldn't stand extended periods of time in the presence of others, and he'd managed to stay nearly celibate for centuries. And yet, ten minutes with Kira had made him forget all of that, including the fact that not half an hour ago he'd been halfway on his way to drinking himself into a coma.

"Something about you is...compelling," he told her, surprising himself with his honesty.

"Compelling?"

She sounded genuinely curious, her eyes bright and questioning. There was no hint of the faked coyness he so often saw in other women, only a guileless innocence that aroused him to an irrational and unstable degree. Without pausing to think, he pulled her into the nearest alleyway, backing her against the wall. He braced his hands on the brick on either side of her head, caging her between his arms.

"Yes, _compelling_."

He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent slowly. He nuzzled his cheek against hers, nipping the spot below her ear lightly. She trembled against him.

"There's something about you that is absolutely _intoxicating_," he growled softly, grinding his hips slowly against hers. "Something that makes me want to take you home and make love to you until we both can't walk."

"Stefan-"

He let out a low, feline purr of satisfaction at the breathless way she said his name.

"I want you Kira," he whispered seductively.

Why he did escaped him. He just knew that the desire tearing through him wouldn't lessen until he had her screaming from release beneath him, and even then he doubted it would. He blamed it on the alcohol.

"Stefan, I don't-"

He kissed her.

Without thinking, he bent to claim her lips, silencing whatever protest she had been about to utter. She gasped softly, pausing for a moment, and he used the opportunity to drag her even closer to himself, lining every inch of her body with his.

"Don't fight me _gatáki_," he whispered, the greek word for kitten rolling easily off of his tongue.

Hesitantly, she parted her lips for him.

"That's it," he breathed.

He claimed her mouth with a hunger that he'd never felt before, his hands unable to stop their exploration of her body as he ran them over her shoulders, her back, her hips. When he ran them down her spine, she shivered and pressed closer.

Stefan smiled felinely, breaking their kiss to nip her jaw.

"Sensitive?" he drawled lazily, running his tongue over the shell of her ear.

He didn't give her a chance to answer, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that made him weak behind the knees. Damn, he loved the taste and feel of this woman. Much more than he should, and way too much to stop.

But as he pressed her back against the wall, as his fingers moved to the top button of her blouse, he froze.

She deserved more than this. To be taken in a back alleyway by a man who was more drunk than sober. He'd known only a handful of lovers in his almost three centuries, and he'd never been so callous as to ignore their desires in favor of his. What was it about Kira that made him so hot he couldn't think of anything else except her?

Regretfully, he pulled away.

"I'm sorry_ gatáki_," he said softly.

He stepped back, forcing himself to ignore how absolutely delectable she looked with her hair mussed, her lips swollen from his kisses, her gaze heated as she stared back at him. She shivered lightly in the cool air as he moved away from her.

"Are you scared of me now?" he asked, voice low.

A small smile touched her lips, and she shook her head.

While he watched, she fixed her hair, smoothing her hands over her shirt. When she was finished, she looked up at him, eyes once again that beguiling, innocent grey that ensnared him completely.

"I can assure you I don't lose control like that very often," Stefan said, reaching to tuck a loose curl behind her ear.

She smiled again.

"I certainly hope not Stefan."

Her smile was contagious, and he felt the corner of his lips twitch into a crooked grin. Shaking his head at his own irrationality, he offered her his arm.

"Come on. I did offer to walk you home after all."


	2. Chapter 2

"Who was he?"

"He was completely gorgeous."

"Did you get his number?"

"Maybe he has a brother…"

Kira smiled to herself and continued filing papers. She listened to Christy and Janna's gossip idly, only half paying attention.

"Kira?"

"Hmm?"

She looked up.

"What's his name?"

"Whose name?"

Janna rolled her eyes and flipped her bleached-blonde hair over her shoulder.

"The hottie who said he knew you at the bar last night. And I still can't believe you never told me about him. Selfish."

She pushed her lips out into a pout, and Kira smiled slightly. She'd taught at Tulane Elementary for the past three years, every since she'd graduated college. She'd met Christy and Janna on orientation day, the two of them as inseparable then as they were now. For some reason Kira'd never really understood, they'd extended their group to include her, and she'd remained close friends with them ever since.

"I don't know him Jan. At least I didn't last night."

"So he lied? Then he was _totally_ hitting on you."

Christy nodded, running a hand through her hair, the blonde strands only a shade darker than Janna's.

"Did he ask to see you again?"

They both looked expectantly at her, and for the first time in her life, Kira found she didn't want to tell the truth.

"No. I guess he wasn't interested."

Janna looked crestfallen, obviously accepting what she'd said without question, but Christy furrowed her brow, her lips frowning slightly. Kira offered no other information however, and she didn't push the subject.

"Well, lunch is about to end," she finally said. "I should go get my kids."

Janna nodded and stood as well. She and Christy walked towards the door.

"I'll call you later," Christy said.

Kira waved back as an afterthought, already back to filing.

Her eyes were on the papers in her hands, but her mind wandered elsewhere. She thought about what Christy had asked her, and she thought about her answer. It hadn't technically been a lie, Stefan hadn't asked to see her again. He'd told her.

"_I will find you again_ gatáki" he'd whispered, and then he'd disappeared so quickly she hadn't had a chance to reply.

She touched her lips without thinking.

The way he'd kissed her in the alleyway had awakened feelings in her body that she'd only heard described before. Her older sister had been a wild child in her teen years, and she'd recounted every detail of her many escapades to Kira in the hours they'd spent together as children. But now the heat and desire that Isabella had so often told her about were more than just words to Kira. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of Stefan's kiss, at the memory of the way his lips had claimed hers with a possessiveness that had made her shiver with want. His body had been corded steel against hers as he'd pressed her back into the wall, his hands demanding yet gentle as they'd run over her body.

Never before in her life had Kira given the opposite gender a second thought, her mind always on her schoolwork, her family, or her job. As a child, she'd always been overshadowed by Isabella and her exuberant, outgoing personality, and she'd seen no reason to step out of her shell once she'd left Italy and started life on her own. But in the brief moment she'd spent with Stefan last night, he'd aroused a sense of feminine desire she'd never known she possessed.

The way he'd looked at her, his amber eyes dark with desire, had surprised her as much as it'd pleased her. Isabella hadn't only been charming and coy, she'd had the looks to go with it. She and her sister shared their mother's brown curls and their father's grey eyes, but that was where the similarities ended. Isabella was tall and curved, whereas Kira had always been just shorter than average, with slim hips and a small bust. Boys had never spared her a second glance with her older sister in the room, something that had only become more obvious the older they got. But Stefan…

She'd never been one to be bothered with petty things like looks, but she couldn't deny the pleasure his heated stare had given her, to know that he found her desirable.

She smiled.

Lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed the beep of the watch that lay on her desk when it signaled that her kids were almost out of lunch. Hurriedly shutting her file cabinet, she picked up her keys and closed the door on the way out of her classroom.

Her kindergarteners were lined up when she got to the cafeteria, waiting for her.

"You're late," Ellie accused as soon as she saw her.

Kira kept her laugh to herself.

She'd never admit it to anyone, but Ellie was her special favorite. The little girl reminded her sharply of Isabella, from her loud personality to the way she wrinkled her nose when she was upset.

"I'm not late, you're just early," Kira teased, brushing an affectionate hand over Ellie's hair.

Ellie made a face, and Kira laughed.

"Come on," she said when she sobered, though a smile lingered on her face. "We're going to be _late_ to the library."

* * *

"Yes Papa, I promise I'll visit for Christmas."

Kira cradled the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she stirred the carrots and peppers in the sizzling pan on the stove. A glass of Chardonnay idled on the counter behind her, and a bowl of pasta was rotating in the microwave.

"Yes papa, I will. I already made plans with Isa. Okay, bye, I love you."

She put the phone back in its cradle by the stovetop and returned to her carrots with an affectionate look on her face. Though she hadn't lived with her parents since she'd been seventeen, her father still treated her like she was five. He called her every night when she got home from school to ask her how her day had been and to demand she move back to Italy.

She shook her head in amusement as she removed the pasta from the microwave and spooned the carrots and peppers on top before sitting down on one of the bar stools at the countertop. She was about to take a bite when the phone rang, and she answered without looking at the Caller ID, assuming it was Christy or Janna.

"Hello?"

"You really should choose new friends _gatáki_, yours give away your phone number much too easily."

She hadn't seen him for a week, yet she would've known his voice anywhere.

"Stefan," she breathed. "How did you find me?"

"Your friends are at Sanctuary again. They were all too happy to offer me your number when they saw me."

Kira smiled mischievously.

"Is that all they offered?"

Stefan laughed, the low, raspy sound sending shivers through her body.

"No, it is not," he answered, amusement in his voice. "But your friends do not interest me. Not as you do."

The heated edge in his voice made her flush, but he didn't wait for her to respond.

"I want to see you again."

There was no hint of a request in his voice, and Kira smiled.

"That didn't sound very much like a question," she answered, voice accusing.

"It wasn't."

His words were arrogant, demanding. Her mind flashed back to the last time she'd seen him. He'd fascinated her completely, from his golden hair and eyes to the feline grace he'd moved with. Everything about him had been so overwhelmingly _male_.

"Well I'm wearing pj's right now, so I guess it'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Pajamas. At five in the afternoon."

She could almost hear his amused smile in his voice.

"Ah _gatáki_, you fascinate me."

"What does that mean?"

That English was not his first language was obvious when he spoke. There was a slight accent to his voice, a barely noticeable lilt to his words that for someone reason, she found unbearably attractive. But that one foreign word he used, that made her shiver and long for him to kiss her again.

"_Gatáki_? I will tell you eventually."

"When's eventually?"

"Perhaps later. Perhaps tomorrow, when you meet me at Sanctuary at seven."

"That didn't sound very much like a question either. You have awful asking manners Mr. Kouris."

He laughed.

"Maybe. Would you please meet me at Sanctuary, tomorrow at seven, Ms. de Luca?"

This time she laughed. Though it was phrased like one, his question still wasn't a question. There was only silent demand and sensual promise. She smiled.

"Yes Mr. Kouris. I will."

* * *

Kira tugged self-consciously at the cuff of her sleeve.

When she'd been talking to Stefan on the phone, she'd felt confidant, assured by the distance between them. Now though, sitting at the bar at Sanctuary as she waited for him, she felt unsure of herself. Surely he'd misjudged her last time he'd seen her, perhaps he'd drank too much. There was absolutely no possibility that he, a man who could have any woman in the world, would choose her. That sense of femininity he'd made her feel before had been a mistake. She wasn't like that. She'd been a wallflower since she'd been old enough to realize that boys didn't have cooties.

Certainly, she'd never come to Sanctuary by herself, or any bar for that matter. Isabella was the wild one. Janna was the talkative one. Christy was the outgoing one. She was just...Kira. When Stefan came she would just have to tell him that-

"You look beautiful."

She gasped and almost knocked over her drink when a hand touched her elbow.

"Stefan!"

Her hand flew to her chest.

"Good Lord, don't sneak up on me like that."

She turned to meet amber eyes that were shining with laughter. Stefan stood at her shoulder, his lips curved into a crooked grin as he watched her. He wore a black leather jacket, unzipped, over a white t-shirt. The fabric clung to every muscle in his ridged abdomen, and Kira felt that unfamiliar but delicious flash of heat go through her body.

"I didn't sneak," he answered, tapping her on the nose lightly. "You, dearling, are just incredibly unobserving."

She blushed scarlet at his endearment.

"And I meant what I said," he continued, stepping closer and making her swallow nervously. "You do look beautiful."

His gaze raked hotly over her, and she ducked her head in embarrassed pleasure.

"Don't hide from me," he whispered.

His hand reached to gently tilt her chin up, his thumb stroking over her lower lip softly. Time slowed. She forgot that she was in a crowded bar, forgot the insecurity she'd been feeling not five minutes before. All of her thoughts were focused on the contact between their skin, on the searing heat in his eyes as he braced his hand free hand on the bar counter behind her and leaned devastatingly close.

She closed her eyes when his fingers shifted to tangle in her hair and his lips brushed against hers. The kiss was light, fleeting. It was the briefest of contacts, but she felt it in every part of her body, felt it make her heart pound and her blood race.

When he pulled back, his eyes were more black than amber, his jaw clenched tightly.

"Stefan?"

He made a face before he smiled ruefully.

"Ah, you make me lose control of myself."

He didn't seem too upset about it though, making no move to distance himself from her as he took the seat next to her and angled himself towards her. He waved a hand at the bartender, one of the Peletier brothers, and ordered himself a tequila.

"Nothing for you?"

Kira hesitated as the bartender, Cherif she now remembered, waited for her answer. She didn't drink. She'd tried alcohol once, and found she had no care for it. She wondered what Stefan would think of her aversion.

"Just a water please," she said.

Cherif nodded, and she thought she saw a hint of a smile in his hardened face as he turned away.

"Just water?"

There was no trace of mockery or sarcasm in Stefan's voice, just curiosity. He tilted his head the side, looking questioningly at her.

"I don't drink alcohol," she explained.

He nodded, accepting her answer without question. She'd anticipated teasing or mockery, expected it even. She'd half been waiting for him to try and convince her to have a sip of the amber liquid he was now drinking, but he showed no inclination to do so. The only thing she could discern from his expression was a quiet respect.

He intrigued her. The few boys that Isabella had ever brought home for the family to meet had been just that, boys. They'd been as exuberant as she, eager to show off and eager to brag. They'd all been handsome of course, Isabella wouldn't have given them a second glance otherwise, but Kira had always sensed that the attraction had been skin-deep and no more. With Stefan though...there was something about him that drew her that she couldn't quite name. Something that went deeper than his golden good looks.

She couldn't put her finger on it. She'd just met him, but she felt none of the crippling shyness she usually did around strangers. A touch of nervousness yes, but then Stefan was just one of those people you knew instinctively not to cross. The relaxed way he leaned against the bar, the lazy slide of his gaze over the room, she had a feeling that they were all just an act.

"Stefan?"

He turned to face her.

"Yes?"

"Why did you ask to see me again?"

If he was surprised by her question, he didn't show it, his face betraying no emotion. She frowned. He was always like that. Even when he was smiling, he wasn't really smiling . She'd noticed that about him the instant she'd seen him. There was a hardness to his expression, a wary watchfulness he never seemed to abandon. He was remote, unreachable. The only time she'd ever sensed him let his guard down was when he'd kissed her.

"Why do you ask?"

"Curiosity, I guess."

He didn't answer right away, just looked at her.

"I'm not sure," he finally said.

His amber eyes flashed.

"I'm not sure."


	3. Chapter 3

And he wasn't.

He didn't know what had driven him to seek her out, to ask her to meet him. The indefinable draw he'd felt when he'd first met her had only intensified when he'd been apart from her. It'd driven him to distraction all week long, thinking about her. Finally, he'd given into temptation and sought her out again, telling himself that he'd see her one more time and be done with it.

But he had been lying to himself.

Now, with her sitting in front of him, his fascination with her only intensified. Her scent filled his senses, her eyes held him captive, and her voice...gods the things her voice did to him. Soft and sweet, it made him want to curl up in her lap and purr. Yet, at the same time, that hint of an Italian accent had him aching to have her in his bed. It was a maddening combination, and he craved it like he'd craved nothing else in three centuries.

"I don't know why I needed to see you again, just that I did."

He watched her reaction to his words carefully. She didn't seem offended by his answer, only satisfied that he'd told the truth.

"I don't know why I asked you out tonight," he repeated, reaching to brush a wayward strand of hair out of her eyes. "But I'm glad I did."

She blushed, and he let a soft growl slide from between his teeth.

"You are absolutely exquisite," he murmured, leaning forward to touch his lips to her ear.

She shivered against him.

Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way to the corner of her mouth, near purring at the softness of her skin under his lips, at the heady scent of freesia and caramel as it filled his nose.

"Leave with me," he whispered.

Without giving her a chance to answer, he claimed her mouth in a kiss that had his senses reeling. Seconds or hours later, he pulled back.

"Please?" he breathed.

Slowly, she nodded.

* * *

Stefan found himself holding his breath as Kira walked around his living room, somehow nervous about what she would think. There wasn't much in the room, barely any furniture and certainly no baubles or trinkets. He preferred to spend most of his time in his base form, and leopards hardly needed fancy candleholders or glass figurines.

Wary of what her reaction would be, he reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Kira?"

"Hmm?"

She answered absently, and he knew she wasn't really paying attention to him. He shook his head, a small smile curving his lips. If she'd noticed that his house was the size of say, a small apartment complex, or that it was designed to represent classical Greece, say, the Parthenon, she didn't say. In fact, she seemed more interested in his taste, or lack thereof, in upholstery than anything else.

He found his eyes following her as she wandered. She passed by the television and the bookshelf without interest, instead choosing to pause at the empty mantlepiece. Why that would interest her, he had no idea. He'd made sure for as long as he'd been alive to never gather any mementos, never make any lasting memories or impressions. He'd never allowed a picture of himself to be taken, and he kept no photos. But Kira seemed intent as she studied the blank surface, brow furrowed.

"It's empty," she finally concluded.

He would've laughed, except for the question he heard in her words.

"I move a lot," he managed to answer.

She shrugged, trusting him.

Guilt bit at him for lying to her, and for one wild moment, he considered telling her the truth.

_Gods, what's happening to me?_

He shook his head, hoping to clear any other outrageous thoughts from it. He barely knew her, yet he wanted to reveal a secret that he'd kept for three centuries. No one knew about his family except for Draven, and he wanted to keep it that way. At least he had.

"Kira?"

She turned to him, a soft smile on her face.

Without thinking, he crossed the room, arms circling her waist to pull her tight against himself. She seemed startled at first, eyes wide. But when he bent to kiss her, she gave a soft hum of approval and parted her lips for him. He groaned. She was all sweet acceptance, and he hadn't known softness for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like. But her hands as they tentatively touched his chest, her silken lips under his, they made him ache for things he hadn't let himself think about for years.

He slanted his mouth over hers, tasting, claiming. His hand slid to the elastic that held her hair in place and he snapped it easily, fingers unraveling her braid. His other hand slid down the slope of her spine and over the delicate curve of her hip. She made a small sound in the back of her throat, and he shuddered convulsively. Damn, if that wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever heard.

"I want you," he growled against her lips.

He hadn't wanted a woman for as long as he could remember, certainly never with the ferocity he wanted Kira. She'd captured his attention from the moment he'd seen her, to the point that he'd forgotten his torment over his family. And for that more than anything else, he was determined to keep her with him. She soothed him impossibly, gave him a sense of peace he'd never felt before. But at the same time, his leopard wanted out, pacing restlessly with the desire to claim what it'd already deemed its own.

"I've never wanted anyone quite the way I want you," he breathed, stroking her cheek with his fingertips.

"Stefan-"

Her voice wavered. He fought back a groan. There was desire in her eyes, but there was also a hesitance that he wouldn't ignore. If she didn't want him, he wouldn't force himself on her.

"It is fine _gatáki_," he murmured, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I won't ask for anything more than this."

She looked surprised, as surprised as he felt. The handful of women he'd been with had never refused his advances, had welcomed them. Then again, that was why he'd chosen them. He's had no desire to form attachments or relationships. They'd only been a way of easing his needs when celibacy became too much for him, and he'd forgotten their faces almost as fast as their names. But with Kira… He was willing to wait for her.

And that scared him more than anything else.

He didn't want to want her, but he did. With a driving urge that wouldn't let him think about anything else. He'd known her all of one week, and he burned for her like he'd never burned for another woman in his life.

"Nothing a woman gives is worth having unless she gives it of her own free will," he said softly.

She kissed his jaw before ducking her head, shy.

"What's wrong?" he asked, smoothing one hand over her hair.

She didn't answer, just hid her face against his chest.

"Talk to me dearling," he murmured.

"Isa was always the one who got the attention."

Her voice was barely audible, and he felt more than saw her wince when she said it. She tensed against him.

"Isa?"

"My sister."

He stood, uncomprehending for a moment, before it set in.

"Kira," he said, pulling back to meet her eyes. "I didn't stop because I don't want you."

He dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"I stopped because I do."

* * *

"You've gone and lost your fool head."

Draven sounded one part incredulous and two parts incredibly amused. His eyes, jewel gold and piercingly steady, were lit with cynic humor.

"I haven't gone and lost anything," Stefan muttered.

The two of them leaned against the wall of the antechamber to the Omegrion chamber, waiting for Savitar to show up. Stefan was the last of the council to arrive, having only flashed into the room moments before. And judging by the smirk on Draven's face, the falcon knew exactly where he'd been.

"Her scent is all over you," he said, looking thoughtful. "It's incredibly appealing."

"Back off," Stefan growled, baring his teeth.

Draven snorted in amusement.

"Relax. I have no intention of going after your woman. Like I said, you've gone and lost your fool head over this one."

Stefan threw him a flinty glare and fell into silence, brooding. It was true, what Draven had said. He'd completely lost his mind. It was the only explanation for what he was letting go on between him and Kira. She was human, forbidden to know anything about what he was, and he hoped she would never know who he was, what he'd done. But despite all the things he couldn't, or wouldn't, tell her, he couldn't make himself leave her either.

Her intoxicating scent, her dulcet laugh, they were all he thought about. The need to seek her out was a reflex. Her voice was the most distinct sound in his world, and he would've been able to pick her out in a crowd from a mile away. And as much as he pretended it wasn't a problem, it'd only taken him a few days to become so dangerously attached. He shuddered to think what would happen weeks, months from now. He doubted he would have the will to leave her then. Hell, he doubted he did now.

"Damn," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"It was definitely not a nothing."

Stefan scowled.

"You irritate me, have I ever told you that?"

"Every day. At least once. Sometimes more."

Stefan rolled his eyes, but was secretly amused. Draven's devil-may-care attitude was the exact opposite of his, and it never failed to snap him out of whatever bad mood he was in.

"So," Draven started casually, carefully. "What is it exactly about her that's so interesting?"

"I don't know."

And he didn't. But as he thought harder about it, he realized it was the little things that attracted him. The way she smiled when it was just the two of them, the way she played with her hair when she was deep in thought. Small things that other people didn't notice. Those were the things that endeared her to him. Not to mention the raging arousal the mere sight of her always caused. However, he didn't feel like elaborating to Draven, and thankfully he didn't have to. Savitar finally appeared and the meeting commenced.

But as the other Weres debated and argued, Stefan found himself paying less attention to them and more attention to Kira than he should have. The novelty of the attraction she held for him had worn off, it no longer surprised him. It didn't mean however, that the attraction was in any way diminished. If anything, it'd strengthened. The question that bothered him now was _why_ he was so captivated by her.

The first and most obvious reason he could think of was that she was achingly, stunningly beautiful. Not by society's standard's, but most definitely by his. The more he thought about it though, the less that reason seemed to fit. Maybe it was her quiet nature. She had a soothing quality about her that never failed to calm him, but he quickly dismissed that idea too. He furrowed his brow. What drew him to Kira went far deeper than any of that, deeper than he was willing to admit. It felt _right_ with her. She completed part of him he hadn't known was there.

And as that thought occurred to him, he buried it in the deepest corner of his mind, where he hoped he would never think of it again. Because he was quite positive of where that particular trail of thought was leading. Kira was inexplicably important to him, and he wanted her with a burning need that never left him. He wasn't stupid. He'd seen other Weres go through it.

But damn it all, he wasn't going to let it happen to him.

* * *

Five days.

It'd been five days since the Omegrion meeting and five days since he'd realized exactly what Kira was to him.

It'd been five days since he'd last gone to see her.

He was being unfair to her, and he knew it. She'd called once, worried, asking if he was okay. He hadn't answered. Guilt ate at him. She'd done nothing to warrant his treatment of her, indeed she deserved the opposite. But there was no way that he would be able to look at her and not remember exactly why he needed her so.

She was his mate.

There was no other explanation for it. Unlike the rest of the Weres in the world, he wasn't so stubborn as to think his mate couldn't be human. Weres, Katagaria especially, were not supposed to be bound to humans, he knew that. But he also knew that "were not supposed to" did not mean the same thing as "did not." Hell, two other Weres on the Council, Vane and Wren, had found human mates. He shook his head. None of that mattered. Unlike the rest of them, there was no way he would ever find redemption for his deeds. What he'd done in the past went against every law there was, Were and human, and the second Kira heard what he'd done, she was going to hate him.

He didn't think he could bear seeing the gentle affection in here eyes turn to revulsion.

No matter how forgiving she was, there wasn't a prayer she'd forgive him once she learned the truth. And that she would learn it he had no doubt. He had always been logical, calculating. He never pretended things were any different than they were. And he knew for a fact that as soon as he bound himself to Kira, his ability to keep his secrets would disappear. Oh, he wouldn't mean to tell her, but as he grew more comfortable with her, the truth would start slipping out in bits and pieces. Pieces that wouldn't take her long to piece together.

Which was why he could never go near her again.

He didn't trust himself around her, he wanted her too badly. Even now, alone in his house, he wanted her. He'd gone through a bottle of Were-strength tequila, but it hadn't put so much as a dent in his arousal, and he was growing more irritated by the second. It was becoming increasingly obvious that the only thing that was going to solve the problem was Kira, and he didn't dare try to seduce her. He didn't even want to think about how he was going to explain away the mating mark that would appear on her palm.

_Well, I'm a leopard, and that mark means you're mine. Forever._

That would go over well.

He scowled as he threw the empty bottle into the corner and flashed into leopard form. He paced restlessly through the house, able to feel the alcohol in his blood, but still unable to calm down. His claws clicked on the marble of the hallway, his tail curled around his back leg. He growled. Even without Kira anywhere near, he could think of nothing else. Gods, but he wanted to see her again. He ached to feel her kiss, craved her touch. He needed her.

Desperately.

* * *

"I don't want to be here."

"You don't want to be anywhere. But at least here you can share your good cheer with everybody else."

Stefan turned a glare on Draven.

"Well maybe not cheer."

Draven seemed completely oblivious to his bad mood, or at least immune to it. Three centuries of friendship tended to have that effect.

"Why are we here?" Stefan grumbled.

"Because you need to get out. You've been pouting in your room since the meeting two weeks ago."

"I don't pout."

But Stefan knew that that was probably pretty close to the truth.

Since his self-imposed restraining order, his temper had gone from bad to worse to downright foul. If he couldn't see Kira he didn't want to see anyone, but Draven had been determined. So now he sat with an already thrice emptied shot glass in front of him as he stared broodingly at Draven. The two of them sat at one of the tables on the second level of Sanctuary, looking down at the people below.

"How is getting myself drunk going to help my mood?" he frowned.

"You plan on getting drunk?"

Draven tsked.

"Not very healthy."

Stefan stared back stone-faced.

"Ah, well. The reason you're here will soon be revealed."

"What do you-"

"Ah ah, just wait and see."

Draven was obviously enjoying himself, too much in Stefan's opinion. But he trusted his friend, and so he waited. After five minutes or so of absolutely nothing, the hair on the back of his neck rose. He became startlingly aware of everything around him. He sniffed the air carefully. And froze.

"What the hell did you do?" he hissed as he shot to his feet.

"I didn't do anything," Draven insisted.

"She's here damn it."

"Who's here?"

Stefan sent him a look that would've reduced a lesser being to a pile of ash, but Draven just smiled and took a sip of his beer. Turning, he placed his hands on the balcony as he scanned the crowd below. It didn't take him long to spot her.

She sat at the bar with her friend, Christy something-or-another. Her hair was pulled back into it's usual braid, pinned in a neat coil at the nape of her neck. Her pale pink sundress wasn't revealing in the least, but he hardened instantly. He growled.

"Oh, look. Kira's here."

Draven had stood too and was looking down at the bar.

"Funny coincidence, that is."

"Draven, what did you say to her?"

The words came out in a low snarl. He trusted Draven implicitly, but he didn't like the thought of another male anywhere near Kira. Not when she was his.

"I didn't say anything to her. I might've asked her friend there out on a date and told her that I was bringing someone along. I might possibly have hinted that that someone liked brunettes of Italian decent. Maybe. Possibly. I can't remember."

Stefan tightened his grip on the railing, ignoring the wood as it cut into his palm.

"Draven, I told you-"

"No Stefan. You didn't tell me anything."

Draven's spoke with a quiet force that made Stefan turn to face him.

"You didn't tell me anything," he repeated. "All I know is that you've been making yourself miserable for the past two weeks. Hell, for the past three centuries. I don't know who this girl is or why she's so important to you, but I know that she made you happy. And I care about you too much to allow you to let go of the one thing that's made you smile in gods' knows how long."

Stefan was speechless.

Draven smiled wanly.

"Go to her Stefan. You need her."

"I-. Thank you."

Draven nodded and disappeared.


	4. Chapter 4

"Stefan?"

Kira couldn't quite believe her eyes as Stefan walked towards her.

His amber eyes were fixed on her, so intense she could hardly find her breath. She didn't feel Christy grab her arm or hear her calling her name. In fact, she had promptly forgotten Christy existed. His walk was graceful, predatory. She swore the temperature in the room went up about ten degrees. And when he stopped, right in front of her, she stopped breathing.

"Kira," he murmured.

And then he kissed her.

She could count on one hand the number of people she'd kissed in her life, but she had a feeling that if she multiplied that number by a hundred, she wouldn't find a man that could kiss the way Stefan could. He turned her legs to jelly.

His lips were hard, demanding, and his tongue was absolutely wicked.

"Ah hem."

Christy cleared her throat politely, and Kira felt her cheeks go positively scarlet when she remembered where they were. But when she looked up at Stefan, she forgot all about her embarrassment. His gaze was hot, feral. More black than amber now, his eyes ran over her slowly, appreciatively. Desire flickered in their depths.

"_Gatáki_."

His voice was low, seductive.

"I missed you."

He brushed her lips with his thumb. He leaned towards her, and she could've sworn he was going to kiss her again-

"Ah hem."

Looking extremely annoyed, Stefan pulled back to face Christy. His lips thinned into a line in distaste.

"Do you need something?" he asked.

"I-, uh-"

With the full force of his gaze on her, Christy faltered.

"Stefan," Kira frowned. "Be nice."

Muttering unintelligibly under his breath, Stefan turned back to her.

"I need to speak with you," he murmured. "Alone."

She hesitated.

"I don't want to leave Christy by herself…"

"She will survive without you for the night. I however, will not."

He brushed his lips against hers in the lightest and briefest of kisses.

"Go," Christy interrupted, seeming to have regained her speech. "I'll see you Monday."

Without waiting for an answer from her, Stefan slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her away. He was silent as he pulled her out of the bar and over to his car, a black Ferrari that looked equal parts fast and expensive, and opened the door for her.

"Stefan," she said as soon as they were out of the parking lot. "What's going on?"

The initial shock of seeing him had passed, and the fact that he'd completely disappeared for two weeks was now first and foremost in her mind.

"Where have you been?"

He didn't say anything.

"Stefan-"

"Do you trust me?"

She looked over at him in surprise. That hadn't been the answer she'd been expecting, and for a minute, she didn't know how to answer. The fact that she barely knew him didn't escape her. But, despite that, there was something about him that made her feel...safe. She was comfortable with him. Her usual shyness with strangers didn't apply to him.

"I-"

She bit her lip.

"Yes."

She thought she heard him sigh in relief.

"I will explain everything to you later Kira, I promise. But for now, it is best if I don't tell you."

She frowned. What was so difficult about explaining where he'd been for the past two weeks? Unless he'd committed a murder or something, in which case she thought it was important she know sooner rather than later. But she'd told him she trusted him, and she did, so she said nothing else about the subject. They drove in silence for a moment.

"Kira," he finally said.

"Yes?"

"You're still thinking about it, aren't you."

It wasn't a question, and she saw no point in lying.

"Yes."

He sighed again, this time the sound was resigned.

"It's complicated," he said.

"How?"

"It's just-"

He broke off, frustrated. It was the first time Kira had seen him at a loss for words, and she stayed silent as he drove. She had a vague recollection of where he lived, but it was much too dark and he was driving much too fast for her to see anything out the window. He didn't speak until he'd pulled into his driveway.

"I had to think about some things," he said quietly, once he'd cut the engine.

"Ste-"

"No, let me finish."

He raked a hand through his hair.

"I am not like other people," he started, his voice low, troubled. "And you-, you are not like other females. At least not to me. What you are gatáki, my kind does not take lightly."

When he turned to look at her, his expression was pained, unsure. He lifted his hand like he was going to reach for her, then dropped it.

"There is so much I wish I could tell you," he whispered. "The time I was apart from you, I agonized over what I would say to you when my resistance finally broke, and I came to find you."

He laughed self-depreciatingly.

"It wouldn't have been much longer. It killed me trying to stay away from you, trying to pretend I didn't need you."

She caught her breath at the admission, and he smiled faintly.

"Yes _gatáki_, I need you, desperately. Why I cannot tell you, but I do."

He lifted his hand again, and this time he did touch her, brushing her hair back from her face.

"You are beautiful," he whispered.

She knew even before he moved that he was going to kiss her, and when he did, she was lost.

Unlike the kiss in Sanctuary, this one was soft, gentle. He coaxed instead of demanded. He traced her lips with his tongue, and she parted them for him. She felt him undo her braid, heard his small hum of approval as her curls tumbled around her shoulders. The desire she only ever felt with him curled around her, and a languid heat pooled in her belly. She shivered and pressed herself closer.

Stefan groaned against her mouth, and something in his kiss changed. His lips slanted over hers, and whatever control he'd had before seemed to snap. He leaned closer, slipped his arm around her waist and-

"Oh," she gasped.

With one fluid movement, he'd slid his chair back and pulled her into his lap. He tugged on her leg so she was straddling him. His lips hadn't left hers once though, and they moved frantically over hers. Hesitantly, she placed her hands on his chest. He kissed her harder. Emboldened, she touched his stomach under the hem of his shirt, tracing the sharp contours of his torso. His hips arched.

Heat suffused both her cheeks and her body as she felt the hard evidence of his arousal press against her. Seemingly unaware however, Stefan just hooked an arm around her waist and tugged. Knowing exactly what he wanted, Kira rocked her hips against his.

"Gods-"

He broke off with a hoarse exclamation, his hips thrusting up.

"I need you," he groaned. "Please, Kira-"

"Yes."

He pulled back just far enough to meet her eyes, his arm tightening around her waist.

"Kira?"

"Kiss me," she whispered.

And he did.

His lips were claiming, dominant as they moved against hers. Rough growls escaped his throat as his hand left her hip to cup her breast. She gasped as she felt the heat of his touch through the thin cotton of her dress. Her nipple hardened, and she moaned. She slid her arms around his neck and leaned in closer, when suddenly, he pulled away.

"Not here," he growled.

Before she could ask him what he meant, he had her out of the car and cradled in his arms. She could feel the tension in his body as he carried her into the house. He didn't bother turning on the lights before he laid her down on the living room sofa, covering her body with his.

He made her mindless with his kiss, and she didn't realize what his hands were doing until he tugged her dress down to her hips. She shivered, not from the cool air, but from the heat in his gaze when he pulled back to look at her. He swept his hand down her side, pulling her dress lower before dropping it to the floor. She didn't breathe as his hands deftly undid the clasp of her bra.

The last time a man had seen her naked had been...never. She, blushed, unsure of herself.

"Stefan," she said nervously.

"Shh dearling," he murmured, touching her cheek. "You are absolutely beautiful."

He kissed the hollow of her throat, tracing patterns with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he cupped her breast. She arched closer. He brushed his fingers over her nipple, rolling it gently.

"I wonder," he whispered seductively. "If I should use my tongue instead."

If she hadn't already been lying down, she would've fallen over.

"Hmm, no answer?"

His lips trailed downwards, teasing.

"Kira?"

She let out a helpless moan.

She felt him smile against her skin a second before his lips surrounded her nipple. A soft scream escaped her throat. He raked his teeth over her, and she writhed underneath him. When he stroked his hand up her thigh, she barely noticed, not even when he slid her panties down her legs and dropped them on top of her dress on the floor. But when his hand slid between her thighs, a choked groan escaped her lips.

"Stefan," she said shakily.

"Hmm, yes?"

His fingers were wicked as they teased her, and her stomach tightened with pleasure. She tugged on his shoulder, unable to speak, but he knew what she wanted. He kissed her, distracting, as he slipped his finger inside of her.

"You're ready for me," he murmured.

He pulled back, and it was only then that she realized he was still fully clothed. But even as she was thinking it, he removed his shirt, his pants following soon after. Her cheeks flamed. She'd never seen a naked man except in her anatomy textbook, and goodness, the two couldn't have been more different. The diagram in the book had been impersonal, lifeless. And Stefan…

Strength bled from every line of his body. His skin was a tawny gold, every one of his muscles clearly outlined beneath it. Broad shoulders tapered into narrow hips, and his abs flexed every time he took a breath. She wasn't quite brave enough to let her eyes wander below his waist, and before she could change her mind, he was on top of her again.

She sighed at the feel of his bare skin against hers, and she pulled him closer. Her breasts were pressed intimately against his chest, and she could feel his erection against her stomach. She moved experimentally against him, and she felt the change in his body immediately.

He cursed and stiffened. His mouth was frantic, desperate. She squirmed underneath him, and he made a choking sound in the back of his throat. He shifted above her, and suddenly he was there, between her legs. She gasped at the feel of him pressing slowly into her-

"_No_."

Stefan pulled away with a strangled cry.

He jerked away from her like he'd been electrocuted, his expression tortured. His chest rose and fell rapidly.

"Stefan?"

"I can't," he said hoarsely.

He gripped her hip convulsively.

"I can't Kira, I-"

He broke off, his gaze darkening. And before she had time to ask him what was wrong, his lips were on hers again. They were hard, unyielding. She knew something wasn't right. But his kiss was like a drug, and his fingers were thrusting inside of her again, and she lost hold of every rational thought in her mind. Raw, unrelenting pleasure coursed through her, and she couldn't help the small whimper that escaped her throat. Her stomach tightened. And then she shattered.

She cried out his name as her back arched, her body shuddering underneath his. Sensation after sensation poured through her, and she struggled to breathe. Stefan stiffened above her, but his fingers kept thrusting until he'd wrung every last tremor from her body. When she finally calmed, she looked up to see him watching her with an unfathomable expression.

"Kira," he whispered, his hand shaking as he brushed her hair back from her face. "I-"

He turned away, a shudder racking his body.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

She woke the next morning in his bed.

It took her a few second to get her bearings, and she blinked sleepily as she looked around. The walls were dark red, and completely void of ornamentation, much like the rest of the room. The only furniture was a mahogany bureau in the corner and the bed. She sighed. It was so very Stefan.

Stefan.

The previous night came back to her in a rush, and she remembered everything with sudden, stunning clarity. She'd been unable to get two words out of him once he'd apologized for whatever it was that had tortured him so much. All he'd said was "sleep _gatáki_", before tucking a blanket around her and disappearing. She'd heard him turn on the shower, but she'd fallen asleep before he'd come out. She frowned. He must've spent at least an hour in there.

He was no where to be seen now, and she felt a flash of hurt. He could've at least told her where he was going after he'd left her last night. But she'd never been one to wallow in self pity, and after a minute, she got out of bed and went to the bathroom.

"Oh dear," she muttered as she glanced in the mirror.

Her hair looked like a bird's nest. After a half-hearted attempt to untangle it with her fingers, she gave up. She rummaged around until she found a rubber band and tied her hair into a messy knot. She'd figure it out when she got home. After splashing water on her face, she decided she was somewhat presentable and wandered back into his room.

And then she paused.

Stefan might not be home, but there was no way she was going to go traipsing around his house, naked, looking for her clothes. She had more propriety than that. Sighing, she decided that if he wasn't here, he couldn't very well object to her looking in his dresser for a shirt. She found a white, long-sleeved button down in the top drawer and put it on. It fell just below mid-thigh on her, and after rolling up the sleeves a couple times, her hands were visible again.

She went back to the bed to fix the sheets, when something on the nightstand caught her eye. A folded slip of paper with her name written on it. Curious, she picked it up.

_Kira,_

_I am so very sorry for last night. I didn't want to leave, but I had no choice. I can't think properly when you're near. Please, don't-_

"I was hoping I would be back before you saw that."

She dropped the note in surprise at the sound of a voice behind her. She turned slowly.

"Stefan."


	5. Chapter 5

He caught his breath at the sight of her. Her lips were slightly swollen, and her hair was escaping its elastic. The animal side of him snarled in primitive satisfaction at the sight of her wearing his clothes. But despite that, he was still very aware of how precarious his situation was right now.

"You left."

He winced.

Her voice wasn't accusing, and it wasn't angry. It was hurt. And that was so, so much worse. He knew she wasn't talking about the fact that she'd woken up without him there. She was talking about last night. He flinched as the memories came back to him.

He'd been mindless with need for her. He was sure he was the first man to ever touch her so intimately, and that fact had only made him want her more. He'd forgotten everything except her, until that god awful moment when he'd come to his senses and realized what he'd been about to do.

He'd known that what Draven had said was true. He couldn't let her go. But at the same time, he'd promised himself that she would never learn the truth of what he was. He'd been seconds away from forgetting that. He'd been horrified and furious, not with her, but with himself. So he'd ignored his own needs as he saw to hers.

And then he'd fled.

From what he didn't know, but he knew that if he'd spent a moment longer with her, his resolve would've snapped. Alone in the shower, it'd taken him all of ten seconds to reach his climax, he'd wanted her that badly. But he hadn't gone back to her. He'd stayed where he was, letting the freezing cold water numb his body, until he was certain she was asleep. After bringing her upstairs to his bedroom and penning her a quick note, he'd flashed out of the house, not really caring where he ended up.

In base form, he'd spent hours running through the Asian wilderness, pushing himself until he'd collapsed, exhausted. After a few, troubled hours of sleep, he'd immediately flashed home.

"I-"

He hesitated, not sure how he was going to explain himself without revealing the part where he turned into a leopard.

"I'm sorry."

It was the only thing he could think of the say.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I shouldn't have left. I should have stayed and explained, but I couldn't because-. Because I was ashamed."

And as he said the words, he realized they were true. There was nothing he'd done to deserve her, nothing he could ever do to deserve her. Even if he never truly claimed her as his, he knew that he'd never allow her to go to another man. He couldn't. He flinched at his own selfishness. She'd given him her trust last night, and he was betraying it in the worst way possible. He could never give her what she needed, could never make her truly happy. How could he, when he couldn't even tell her who he was?

But he still wanted her.

Now more than ever, he was sure that if he made love to her, a mating mark would appear on his palm. Part of him craved that. Kira gave him a peace he hadn't felt since the day Draven had found him. She made him forget the past, and for that, she was unspeakably precious to him. The more he thought about that, the less important his fear of her rejection seemed, but he still couldn't stomach the idea of her hating him. More importantly, how was he supposed to protect her? Not from others, but from himself. She was beauty and light, and he was everything but that. His world was not made for a woman like her.

"Stefan?"

Her voice was worried, and after a moment's hesitation, she crossed the room.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, touching his cheek.

He bit his lip at the warmth in her touch.

"Nothing," he murmured. "I was just thinking."

"Good thinking or bad thinking?"

"Both."

She frowned.

"I hope you're not going to run away again."

His lips curved involuntarily.

"I don't think I could run away from you again," he said, taking her hand in his and brushing a kiss on her palm.

Her unique scent filled his senses, and he breathed a contented sigh. Despite all his worries, it was so easy to relax and forget with her. He wished, not for the first time, that he wasn't _him_. That he could claim her the way he really wanted to, that he could make love to her like he had been dying to the night before.

"Stefan?"

"Hmm?"

He looked down at her, suddenly realizing that she was talking to him.

"I hate to go, but I really do need to get home," she said again.

He was absurdly pleased by her obvious reluctance. She didn't want to leave any more than he wanted her to. Hell, if he had it his way, she'd never leave his arms, let alone his sight. But he realized with a sort of wry self-deprecation that if he couldn't even tell her what he was, he had no right to ask her to do anything for him. Sighing, he nodded.

"I'll take you home."

* * *

Stefan stared broodingly at the wall.

He'd long since taken Kira home, and now, alone, he stewed silently over what he was going to do next.

He was not like other Weres. He had no qualms about Kira being human. He wouldn't have cared had she been an Arcadian sentinel. She was her, and that was enough for him. But he still couldn't get over his gut-wrenching fear of her reaction to the truth. He, who had lived his entire life without a thought for the opinions of others, had a soul-deep terror of the opinion of one single woman.

Briefly, his thoughts flashed back to Ekaterina, how she had left him. He'd never felt the kind of pain he had when she'd gone. She'd been the center of his world from the day she'd been born, and when she'd chosen death over him, he'd sworn to himself that he'd never open himself to that kind of hurt again. Never let himself-

No. Kira was not Ekaterina. Thoughts of his sister had no place in his mind, not now, not ever. He'd left her behind with his past, and he would not dwell on her now. But, he realized through gritted teeth, she _was_ with him. She was the reason he couldn't bear to tell Kira what he was. Because if she left him, it would do what Ekaterina's abandonment hadn't - break him.

He'd always had an unerring sense of himself. He knew who he was. He knew his strengths and his weaknesses, and more than anything, he knew his limits. He knew that if Kira left him, he would not recover from it. He hadn't claimed her yet, but he knew without a doubt that the Fates had meant her to be his. If he hadn't been sure before last night, he was now.

Just the memory of how it had felt to have her underneath him, to pleasure her and to hear her soft gasps and cries, hardened him instantly. He'd never felt the kind of raw pleasure as he had with her, and he hadn't even fully entered her. She was his, and he had never been more certain of anything in his life.

_Then just tell her._

He gave a short laugh of self-depreciation at his own cowardice. He found it darkly amusing that he was so terrified of telling her, that he was so afraid of what he knew would eventually be inevitable. There was no way he could hide the truth forever, and forever was exactly what he wanted from her. He wasn't fool enough to believe he was in love with her, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that things would remain that way for long either. He wanted her badly, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hide his secret for long before his self-control snapped. He needed her too much.

He flicked his tail in irritation. She deserved so much better than him. She deserved a normal, human mate who wouldn't involve her in the sort of twisted Hollywood movie that was his life. He was the freaking Katagaria leopard regis to the Omegrion. He spent more time as a gigantic feline than he did walking on two legs, and he had about as much experience with relationships as a pubescent adolescent. His encounters with women were limited to the physical kind.

He snorted in disgust and got up, stalking silently over to the kitchen. Flashing into human form, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap with a claw. He leaned against the cool steel of the kitchen island. His thoughts were a wild whirlwind, and he struggled to calm them. The only clear thing he could discern from them was Kira. Her and her laugh and her smile and her scent and her touch. His body tightened, and he let out a low groan. Whatever he was doing to do about her, he was going to have to decide on it fast.

His self-control couldn't take much more of this.

* * *

"Have you told her yet?"

Stefan shook his head silently.

He and Draven were walking down Bourbon Street. Though flashing places was more convenient, he genuinely enjoyed the walks he and Draven occasionally took. Though his friend usually made up at least ninety nine percent of the conversation, he still enjoyed the company. He was by nature solitary, but there was only so much of his own company he could take before he started going crazy.

"Did you, you know…"

Draven trailed off suggestively, and this time, Stefan did answer. A mildly irritated grunt that said that that was not a topic that was open to discussion. But, as always, Draven ignored him and continued talking.

"She really is a sweet girl-"

That got Stefan's attention.

"You talked to her?" he demanded sharply.

"Well, yeah. I had to make sure she wasn't a psycho serial killer you know. She's not, by the way. Good news for you-"

"Stay away from her."

The words came out in an icy hiss.

"Easy kitty, I didn't do anything except chat with her at Sanctuary. Plenty of witnesses. Trust me, I didn't do anything that you wouldn't approve of."

Stefan was tempted to say something about breathing the air around Kira being enough for him to consider it too close, but he subdued the urge.

"She's mine," he muttered instead.

Draven inclined his head in acknowledgement, and the two of them continued walking. They turned one street corner, then another. It never really mattered to them where they ended up, they could always flash home if they wanted to. It was the time spent together that they valued. For two solitary animals, that was saying a lot. But Stefan had known the falcon for most of his life, and he was the only family that he had left.

"Stefan."

"What?"

"Isn't that Kira?"

Stefan's head whipped around, seeking out the direction that Draven had nodded in. And indeed, it was Kira. She was in the bookstore across the street, her head bent low as she read from an old leather bound volume. The soft glow from the store lamps cast her in a hazy gold light, and he swallowed convulsively at the sight of her. He watched, enraptured, as she paid for her book and left the store, waving goodbye to the stout old man who ran the shop.

As soon as she stepped outside, her scent hit him like a tidal wave, and before he knew what he was doing, he crossed the street, vaguely aware of Draven following behind him.

"Kira," he said.

And then, before she could say anything in response, he kissed her. He let out a small moan at the taste of her, and pulled her close. Her initial surprised quickly melted into recognition, and she sighed softly against his mouth. After a last, lingering kiss, he pulled away.

"It's nice to see you too," she said, her cheeks flushed and a smile playing at the edge of her lips.

"_Gatáki_," he answered, keeping one arm around her waist.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked.

Stefan turned, suddenly remembering Draven's presence.

"We're-"

"Stefan just loves taking long, romantic walks," Draven cut in, sending Kira a blinding grin.

"Draven," Stefan bit out.

"He's actually very sensitive. Kind of like-"

Stefan let out an irritated growl and pulled Kira away.

"Pay him no mind," he told her, keeping her tucked against his side.

She seemed incredibly amused by all of it, just as much so as Draven, who walked several feet behind them, still talking about Stefan's deepest feelings.

"So what are you really doing?" she asked.

"Walking," he answered. "It helps me think."

Not that it was doing anything for him now. Not with her pressed against his side like this. All he could register was how badly he wanted to be alone with her, preferably naked.

His thoughts didn't progress much past that as the three of them continued down the street, at least until a sickly sweet scent that could only mean one thing reached his nose. A quick glance over at Draven who now walked on the other side of Kira told him that his friend smelled them too.

Daimons.

Stefan tightened his grip on Kira, drawing her closer as he smelled the air carefully. There were four, maybe five of them, and they were close. Trailing behind them.

"You know what?"

Draven's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"I'm suddenly getting tired," he said casually, yawning. "I think I'm going to head home. But by all means, you two continue on without me."

Stefan glanced at him sharply. He knew what Draven was doing, especially when the falcon smiled charmingly at Kira before dropping back behind them. He was going to fight, alone. And even though he knew a handful of Daimons weren't enough to present much of a challenge, it still felt wrong to stand behind the sidelines while someone fought in his stead

But he had Kira to think of, and obviously Draven had realized the same thing. So he kept his mouth shut and walked a bit faster. Kira had to have realized something was wrong by now, but she didn't say anything, just followed where he led. They'd nearly reached the end of the block, and Stefan started to relax, when the smell of blood reached his nose.

And not Daimon blood.

"Shit," he cursed.

"Stefan, what's-"

"I'm sorry dearling, I don't have time to explain. I need you to stay here for me, okay?"

He left her, subduing his guilt over bringing her into danger, and took off in search of Draven. The smell of his blood grew stronger until Stefan ducked into one of the alleyways that dotted the street.

"Shit," he repeated.

Draven was phasing uncontrollably on the ground, flashing in and out of his falcon form as shudders wracked his body. He'd been hit with a phaser, nasty pieces of technology that were deadly to Weres. How in the hell had this group of Daimons gotten their hands on one?

Said Daimons now hovered over Draven's fallen form, their blonde hair ghostly silver in the moonlight. One held a long curved blade in his hand, and the blood that dripped from it made Stefan's vision haze with anger. Without thinking, he phased.

Letting out a savage growl, he pounced. Before the Daimons noticed him, he killed the first of them, tearing out his heart with his fangs. The second, he killed with his claws. The other two faced him leerily, one holding the knife, the other the phaser.

He watched them carefully. Daimons might have been soulless monsters, but they weren't stupid. More than one Were had lost their life to them, and these two were armed. But unlike Draven, Stefan had already seen the phaser, and he was well prepared to dodge the Daimons' charge. With a quick swipe of his paw, the third Daimon exploded in a burst of gold powder. He circled the last one warily, spitting growls as his claws clicked on the cement. And then, with one last pounce and a quick snap of his teeth, it was over.

The taste of Daimon blood coated his mouth and his fur, and with a grunt of disgust, he flashed back into human form, removing the blood and materializing a shirt and jeans onto his body. The rush of adrenaline that always came with fighting still pounded through his veins, and it took him a second to get his bearings. The first thing he realized was that there was a stinging cut on his chest that smarted every time he moved. The second was that Draven now lay deathly still on the concrete ground. The last thing that registered with him was the sound of a very human, very erratic heartbeat.

_Kira._


	6. Chapter 6

She was crazy. That was the only explanation for it.

After Stefan had disappeared, she'd gotten worried. He'd seemed tensed, upset. And so she'd followed him down the street to the alley she'd seen him turn into, and-, and instead of him, she'd found a gigantic leopard. Larger than anything she'd ever seen on TV or in the zoo, a massive golden beast with inky rosettes and piercing amber eyes. It's claws and fangs had flashed deadly silver in the moonlight.

As she'd watched, horrorstruck, it'd killed the four men in the alleyway. They'd all been tall and blonde and extremely muscular, and they'd been armed too. But despite what Kira could only term as supernatural speed, the leopard had killed them all in seconds. It had ripped out their hearts, and then then men had-, disappeared. Vanished. Turned into golden dust blown away by the evening breeze. And then, as if that hadn't been enough, the giant cat had paused, growled, and then it had disappeared as well.

Only to be replaced by Stefan.

"I am absolutely loony," Kira muttered, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths.

She bit her nail nervously, something she hadn't done since she'd been a child, and kept muttering to herself under her breath. What she had just seen could not be real. She had to be imagining it. Leopards did not randomly appear on the streets of New Orleans, and if they did, their victims certainly didn't disappear once killed. And most importantly, those leopards most definitely did _not_, under any circumstances, turn into humans, and they _absolutely positively_ did not turn into her human lover.

"I have completely lost it," she mumbled.

"_Gatáki_?"

Oh god, oh god, oh god. That was not Stefan's voice.

But it was. And it was undoubtedly him that was now walking towards her, his tawny hair curled rakishly over his brow, his brows drawn low in worry. She would have recognized that deadly gait anywhere. And his eyes. They were more black than amber, dark with an emotion she couldn't identify. But the closer she peered into them, the more panicked she got.

Those were the leopard's eyes. A golden amber that was depthless and piercing and not the slightest bit human. And they were staring back at her from Stefan's face.

"Kira?" he asked hesitantly.

"What _are_ you?" she breathed.

"I'm a Were-leopard."

"You're awfully direct," she mumbled.

She couldn't help the words as they escaped her mouth, and his lips cracked in a small smile.

"I am not lying to you dearling."

And as crazy as it sounded, she didn't think he was. What she had just seen aside, that explanation somehow _fit_. Everything started clicking into place. His unnatural strength when he'd dealt with Harrison like he'd been mo more than a rag doll. His feral, predatory gait and gaze. The way he spoke as if he was from another time.

Then there was the undeniable fact that he had just turned into a giant leopard right before her eyes. She shivered, and not from the cold. Her lover was a leopard, or a man-leopard, or something. Either way, he was most certainly not human. Oh, god, what sort of twisted nightmare was she living? She was going to be locked up in a mental institution. Or worse-

A strange cry cut through the air, snapping Kira out of her thoughts.

"Draven!"

Stefan suddenly turned away from her, running to kneel next to a...falcon? Whom he had just called Draven.

_Well_ she thought sourly. _If Stefan gets to turn into a leopard, why can't Draven turn into a falcon? Why not indeed._

And then she saw that the falcon was bleeding.

"Oh my god," she gasped, thoughts of what she had just seen disappearing. "What happened?"

"I shouldn't have left him," Stefan said shortly.

He placed his hand over the bird's chest and closed his eyes, murmuring softly under his breath. He brow furrowed in concentration, but after a second, his eyes snapped open, and he bared his teeth.

"He's too unstable too flash anywhere," he said, more to himself than to her. "I could carry him to Sanctuary-"

She was definitely crazy.

She'd just learned that Stefan morphed into a leopard, that his best friend turned into a falcon, and she'd just seen him kill four people. If she had any sense, she'd be running screaming in the other direction. She was almost a hundred percent sure that she was in shock.

But Draven was hurt. He'd never been anything but kind to her, and he was Stefan's closest friend. Sanctuary was at least twenty minutes away on foot, and god knew how far away Stefan lived. But her apartment was only a block away.

"Stefan?"

He didn't answer her, but she knew he was listening.

"Take him to my house."

He froze.

"Kira are you-"

"He's hurt. I live fifty feet from here."

He was on his feet an moving before she had time to blink. With a small grimace, he picked Draven up, carefully, as if he were an infant. He cradled him to his chest, mindful of every movement he made. His lips pressed tight, he nodded to her.

"Let's go."

* * *

"Is he okay?"

Kira looked up from the tea pot she was brewing, her fingers tapping nervously on the granite countertop. Under her order, Stefan had placed Draven in her bed. The couch was in no way suitable to put an injured person on. But when the two of them had disappeared and she'd been left alone, the full impact of what had just happened hit her.

She had just invited a leopard and a hawk into her home. Her hands shook slightly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked at Stefan.

"He's fine," he answered, running a tired hand through his hair. "He just needs to sleep it off."

His hand paused, and his eyes locked on her.

"You are another story _gatáki_."

He seemed leery of approaching her, staying on the other side of the kitchen and crossing him arms over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. His gaze as he watched her was searching, wary, as if he was waiting for her to break out in hysterics at any second.

"You're a Were-leopard," she finally said, extremely pleased that she managed to keep her voice steady. "What is that?"

"I was really hoping I wouldn't have to tell you," he murmured. "Not like this."

His sighed, biting his lip.

"It means I can turn into a leopard at will. Or, more accurately, I can turn into a human."

He smiled wanly.

"I am animal at heart. I was born a leopard, and for the first few years of my life, I could not turn human. It is not until we gain control of our magic much later in our life that we gain the ability to shift forms."

"Do you, you know-"

She gestured vaguely with her hand, unsure of how to ask, but he knew what she meant anywhere.

"No. I do not harm humans. The men you saw tonight in the alleyway were Daimons, another species from my world. Vampires, essentially."

Vampire? And Weres? His world?

"What else exists that I don't know about?"

"There is much you do not know dearling, that we hide from those who are mortal."

"You're immortal?"

Her eyes went wide with alarm. Turning into a giant fuzzy cat was one thing, but living forever was another. She thought she could get used to the first, maybe, given enough time, but she didn't think she could deal with the second. There was something incredibly disturbing about the idea of being old and wrinkly when he still looked like a greek god.

"In a way," he answered. "I will not live forever, but I will tell you that I have already seen three centuries go past."

"Three centuries?"

He nodded slowly.

"Oh my goodness," she whispered.

She gripped her tea mug tightly, not caring that the scalding hot ceramic was burning her palm. But apparently he did, because he crossed the tiles in two quick steps and grasped her hands in his. He pulled them gently away from the mug, lacing his fingers through hers.

"I am no different than I was when I first met you Kira," he said softly. "You have learned the truth of what I am, but that does not change who I am. The reason I didn't tell you-. Please dearling, try to understand."

There was a pleading note in his voice, and she glanced up at him. And when her eyes met his, she gasped.

They were burning with a thousand different emotions, but the one that overshadowed everything was fear. And in that second, whatever anger she'd been feeling because he had lied to her, it disappeared. She knew why he hadn't told her. She knew with a bone-deep certainty that he had kept this from her because he was afraid that she would leave. That she would judge him and disappear from his life

That knowledge did more to helping her understand than anything else could, and she found that her smile as she looked back at him was completely genuine, and more than a little bit affectionate. The thought that Stefan, who was the most perfect being she had ever met, who had now told her that he was a magical, shapeshifting supernatural creature, was scared of her leaving; it melted her heart for him all over again.

And so she kissed him.

She tiptoed and laced her hands behind his neck, pressing her lips to his. He froze. His entire body tensed, and he inhaled sharply. But when she kissed him again, harder this time, he finally responded.

His hands were suddenly on her waist, his body was suddenly pressing hers against the countertop, and his lips were suddenly parting hers. A low, animal growl escaped his throat, and instead of frightening her, it made her belly clench in desire.

"Stefan," she gasped.

His lips had left hers and were burning a trail down her throat. His tongue ran over the pulse of her vein. She shivered and pressed closer.

"Your scent drives me crazy," he rasped, nuzzling the curve of her neck.

His mouth moved back to hers, his tongue doing things that made her weak behind the knees. She felt more than heard the low sound of approval he made before he swung her up into his arms. His mouth never once left hers as he carried them to the couch. He set her down gently, completely contrary to the impatient demand of his hands as they covered her back, her hips, her breasts.

She arched helplessly into him. She was nothing short of loony to not only believe him, but to be okay with it, but the feel of his hair as it slid between her fingers, the feel of his lips against hers, his body hot and hard as it pressed her into the couch - there was something undeniably and irrevocably _right_ about this.

And for once, she chose to throw caution to the winds and listen to her heart instead of her head. So leopard or human or shape-shifting something or whatever he was, Kira ignored all of it and focused on the man in her arms.

Her mind flew back to the last time he'd held her like this, to what had made him stiffen and hiss with pleasure, and what had made him groan and let slip just a little bit of his iron control. Hesitantly, she slid one hand from his hair to his shoulders, then down the hard contours of his back. She traced the curve of his spine, stopping at the edge of his jeans.

Stefan made a sound in the back of his throat that was unbearably sexy, half moan and half growl. His hips arched to hers, and the steely evidence of his arousal made her cheeks heat and her stomach do flip flops. She'd never quite gotten over her disbelief that this gorgeous man wanted her, but she knew that men couldn't lie about _that_ and-

Oh goodness, her cheeks had to be blazing by now. And apparently, they were, quite noticeably, because Stefan's lips moved away from hers, and he spoke.

"What," he started, nibbling on the corner of her mouth. "Has you so embarrassed?"

"N-nothing," she stammered.

His hands were sliding under the hem of her shirt.

"I don't believe you."

Her only answer was a whimper, because now he was cupping her breast, and it felt so devastatingly good. He touched her nipple through the lace of her bra, and white hot pleasure stabbed through her body. She clutched his shoulders.

"I'm still waiting for an answer," he murmured, nuzzling the spot just below her ear.

"Stefan," she moaned helplessly, unable to say anything else.

He smiled wickedly before kissing her again. His lips were hard and demanding against hers, yet his hands were soft and gentle as they slipped from from her breast to circle her waist. He lifted her, effortlessly, and turned to sit before settling her down over his lap.

"Gods," he groaned as he pulled her hips down to meet his.

He was cradled between her thighs, and he rocked his hips against hers in a slow, deliberate pattern that made her stomach tighten and her breasts ache. Desperate to feel him, skin to skin, she tugged impatiently at the buttons of his shirt. But before she could so much as undo one of them, his hands reached up to close over hers, stopping her.

"No," he said roughly.

"Stefan?"

"This isn't about me."

His mouth sought hers again, but instead of obliging him, she pushed him away. Because in that moment, she realized exactly what he was saying.

"You're doing it again," she whispered, her voice disbelieving to her own ears.

"Doing what?"

He sounded confused, but she saw the flash of his eyes, and she _knew_.

"You're pulling away."

Her mind raced back. He'd pulled away then, too. She remembered all too well his cry of denial before he'd taken her to climax and then left. He'd disappeared. He'd taken no pleasure for himself, and somehow, that made her feel...dirty. It felt like ten different kinds of wrong. It felt like she was using him.

Her cheeks still flushed, her lips still swollen from his kisses, she pushed to her feet. Her body thrummed with desire, but she ignored it, desperate to get a little bit of distance between them.

"_Gatáki_?"

She shivered. His voice slid over her like a caress.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his hand reaching out to touch her shoulder.

There was something off about his voice, and when she looked up, she saw the truth of it in his eyes. He might try to hide it, but she saw it anyway, in the way he wouldn't quite meet her gaze. He already knew what was wrong, and he wasn't telling.

And suddenly, she was angry.

"You tell me," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Kira-"

"I listened to you. I think I made it quite obvious that I accept it too. I forgave you for lying to me. So what on earth did I do to make you lie to me now?"

Her voice cracked, and tears stung her eyes. She turned away quickly, before he could see, but not quick enough.

"Don't cry," he said, his voice pleading. "Please Kira, I don't think I could stand it if you did."

"Why do you care?"

She knew it was childish and petty, but she couldn't stop the words as they left her mouth. She was hurt. Why wouldn't he trust her?

"Kira," he said, softer this time. "Of course I care."

She heard him move, heard him stand up. She didn't stop him from sliding his arms around her waist, but she didn't return the embrace either.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, hugging her tight. "I never meant to hurt you."

He buried his face against her neck.

"I can't stand hurting you," he whispered.

He trembled slightly, a silent show of the emotion he wouldn't or couldn't voice. But she understood anyway, and relenting, she turned in the circle of his arms. She framed his face between her palms, guiding him to met her eyes.

"Then tell me the truth," she said, searching his gaze. "What's so horrible that you think I can't handle it?"

_I handled you turning into a cat pretty well_ she thought wryly.

"I-"

His jaw clenched, and he broke off, looking away.

"Stefan?"

She made her voice softer, her hands gentle as she pulled him back to look at her again.

"Please tell me," she asked. "I promise I won't run."

He searched her face for a long time, looking for what, she didn't know.

"If I make love to you," he finally started.

His amber eyes pierced straight through her, and she shivered.

"If I make love to you Kira, I will never, ever let you go. You will be mine. Forever."


	7. Chapter 7

She didn't understand. He could tell from her expression that she didn't. But instead of pulling away or mocking him, she simply remained in his arms, her thumbs stroking his cheeks lightly as she waited for him to continue. He shuddered and closed his eyes. If he lost her, he wouldn't live through it.

"Do you remember that night I took you from Sanctuary?"

She nodded.

"Do you remember what I said to you in the car?"

"You said you weren't like other people."

"What else?"

Her brow furrowed as she thought, and the motion of her hands stilled. Gently, he pulled them away from his face, lacing his fingers through hers.

"You said that I'm not like other people either."

"No _gatáki_, you are not."

And then, despite his want, his need to be touching her, to feel her, he pulled away. He paced a short distance away, over to her mantle. Unlike his, which was as empty as the day he'd bought his house, hers was filled with photos, memories.

"My kind," he said quietly, brushing his fingers over a picture of her as a child. "Are very different from humans when we take mates."

"Stefan?"

"The Fates choose for us who we are meant to be with; it is something over which we have no control. And once we have found those mates, a magic more ancient than time itself binds us together, irrevocably and irreversibly."

He tensed.

"The only way to know for sure whom we are fated to be bound to, the only way to create the bond, is through sex."

A small frown tugged at his lips as those last words escaped his mouth. Sex seemed like too crude a word to mention in any relation with Kira. With her it was so much more than that.

"However," he continued, still unable to face her. "I have never been more sure of anything as I am of this Kira - should I make love to you, that bond will be sealed, and I will never be able to let you go."

He heard her breath catch, heard her go still. But he had to say this now, because if he didn't, he doubted he would have the resolve to say it later.

"I want you," he said softly. "Make no mistake of that. I can't sleep at night but for my desire for you. But I will not take your freedom from you. Should I claim you as mine, if even for a night, I will never allow you to go to another male. Even now, if you walk away, I doubt I could stand to see you with someone else."

A potent mixture of fury and pain iced his veins as he thought about what it would feel like to see her in another male's arms. To know that they had held her as he had, and perhaps even made love to her as he could not. He ground his teeth. He would kill anyone who touched her.

He flinched at his selfishness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, because he could think of nothing else to say.

He stiffened, waiting for her rejection, waiting for her to scoff and turn away. Even worse would be her kindness. Scorn and disgust he could handle, he was used to those. But if she looked at him with those grey eyes and spoke to him in that soft voice, he just hoped he'd have enough control to get away from her before he lost it. And so, his entire body tensed, he waited silently for her answer.

And when it came, he promptly lost the ability to breathe.

"Stefan," she breathed.

And then she slid her arms around his waist. She rested her cheek against his back, her hands linking to rest against his stomach. She nuzzled his spine- ah gods, she couldn't know how sensitive he was there, couldn't know that the merest breath of her touch there had his entire body clench with desire.

"Kira," he said hoarsely, hands closing convulsively over hers. "Kira."

"Shh," she said.

He shuddered helplessly at the feel of her lips moving against his spine, even through his shirt. Needing to preserve what little bit of control he had left, he turned, so he was facing her.

"Kira-"

He didn't have time to finish his sentence before her lips were on his.

Desire exploded through him, slamming arousal back into his body with vicious force. His sweet little Kira had slipped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss that had his toes curling in his boots. Her hands trailed fire as they slipped over his shoulders to tug him closer.

"Wait," he gasped, wrenching his mouth from hers, before he lost himself to her touch. "I can't-, Kira, are you sure-"

He could barely string together a sentence, not with her pressed so intimately and deliciously close.

"You know what will happen-"

"You think too much," she whispered.

And then her lips were back on his. This time, he didn't bother trying to resist. It was futile, really. He craved her with a longing that had quickly become more important than eating, breathing. He needed her, and feeling that need echoed in her touch, in her kiss, it brought him a contentment and pleasure he'd never thought he'd be able to feel.

He took over their kiss now, parting her lips so his tongue could claim her mouth. He was utterly drunk on the taste of her. Growling, he swung her up into his arms, intent on carrying her to the couch once more. But before he did, he growled again, this time in irritation. He would not take her for the first time there. A quick probe with his thoughts told him that Draven was still very much unconscious on her bed. His mind calculating quickly, he pulled away from her just far enough so he could speak, his lips brushing against hers with every word.

"Do you trust me?" he breathed roughly, cradling her closer.

She nodded.

And then, before she could say anything else, he flashed them both to his house. She gasped, her eyes flying around in shock. But he silenced any questions she might have with his mouth, kissing her hungrily, desperately. He knew the moment she forgot what he'd just done, because she tugged on his shirt, making an impatient growling noise that was really too sexy for words to describe. A shudder rolled through his body, and he carried her swiftly to his bed.

As he laid her down, he took a moment to pull back and enjoy the sight she made, lying on his sheets. A low snarl of male satisfaction slipped from between his clenched teeth. Her hair was unbound and spilt in a silken wave around her shoulders. Her eyes were bright and her lips were swollen, and there was desire clear in her gaze.

Groaning helplessly, he fell back on her, his lips seeking hers for a kiss that made his already throbbing erection tighten further. She knew the truth of what he was, she knew what would happen if she gave herself to him. And yet she wanted him. This perfect, gorgeous creature still wanted him, knowing that he was an animal, that he would claim her, mark her. The thought alone made him lightheaded with pleasure, and he wasn't sure he was completely in control of his faculties as he tore at her dress, desperate to feel her skin against his.

He growled in frustration as his hands met the row of tiny buttons that did her dress up the back. He considered flashing the dress off of her, or better yet, ripping the offending thing into pieces, but then decided he'd shocked her enough for one day. So, muttering all sorts of things he'd like to do to the person who had designed such a monstrosity, he painstakingly undid each of the little pearl clasps before finally, _finally_ sliding the material from her shoulders.

Warm silk met his palms as he slid his hands up her back to caress her shoulders, her neck. She shivered against him, hands now tugging at his shirt. His own clothing, he had no respect for - especially if it kept him from her. So that he tore without a second thought, discarding it to the floor with a flick of his wrist.

"Touch me," he rasped.

Whether it was a demand or a plea, he didn't know. But he couldn't quite find it in himself to care as she laid her hands on his chest, and every rational thought left his brain. That mere touch shouldn't have had anywhere near the impact on his senses that it did, but the knowledge that this was _Kira_ sharpened the pleasure until just the brush of her fingers against his throat made him want to purr with satisfaction. Wanting, needing more of her touch, he wrapped an arm around her waist and rolled, switching their positions. The sight of her on top of him, straddling him, the feel of her thighs cradling his aching arousal, it nearly undid him.

"Touch me," he said again, and this time, he was under no illusion that it was anything but a plea.

Her eyes were bright with a mix of desire and curiosity that had him biting his lip with the effort it took to stay still. She didn't seem as shy as she had last time, something that he was extremely grateful for, especially as she slid her palms down his shoulders to rest on his chest. Her exploration of his body was a sweet torture he wasn't sure he would survive. His muscles clenched and shuddered as she worked her way down his chest to his stomach. When she hesitantly leaned down to replace her hands with her mouth, he let out a strangled curse as his hips jerked up to meet hers. Sweat misted his skin.

"Kira," he choked as her lips brushed the spot just below his navel.

"Hmm?" she looked up at him, cheeks flushed, but her eyes genuinely curious.

Dear gods, her innocence was the sexiest thing he'd ever encountered. The guilelessness, the open trust. It did things to his body and heart that he couldn't even begin to describe or comprehend.

"I need you."

Those three words were nowhere near enough to describe what he felt in that moment, but they were all he could muster before he had to kiss her again. In a matter of seconds he managed to reverse their positions again and rid both of them of their remaining clothes. And then, despite the fact that that kiss hadn't lasted nearly long enough, he had to pull back. Because the sight of her, naked, in his bed, was nearly enough to make him come right then.

"You are perfect," he whispered.

Slowly, reverently, he traced the curve of her jaw, the graceful arch of her neck. His breath hitched as he cupped her breast. She arched up in a silent plea that he was all too happy to answer, and he leaned down to take her nipple into his mouth. Her soft scream of pleasure wrenched a decidedly feline purr from his throat, and he suckled her teasingly as he held her still beneath him.

"Kira."

His voice was more croon than anything else as he slid one hand from her waist to her knee. He worked his way up her thigh, savoring the softness of her skin against his. When he finally touched her, her hips thrust up, a small moan escaping her lips.

"Beautiful," he purred.

He continued tormenting her breast while his fingers explored her, stroking, teasing. He slipped one finger into her, groaning at how tight she was.

"Stefan," she said shakily, trembling beneath him.

"Shh," he soothed, moving to nuzzle a kiss against her temple.

He settled his mouth over hers, kissing her with every bit of skill he knew how as he thrust first one, then two fingers into her - a slow lazy rhythm that belied his burning arousal.

He held her close as she climaxed in her arms, relishing the way she cried out his name. There was nothing more satisfying than pleasuring this woman, and he hardened further just watching her.

"Beautiful," he repeated, voice strained this time.

By now he was nearly shaking with the force of his desire. He pressed hot, openmouthed kisses to her shoulder, her throat, her jaw - needing that small bit of contact even as he shifted so he was cradled between her thighs.

There were no words to describe the ecstasy that ripped through him as he pressed slowly into her. His breath came out in tortured groans as he dropped his face into the crook of her neck and just _felt_. Hot silk closed over his straining shaft in the most intimate and pleasurable caress he'd ever known.

"Gods, _yes_," he moaned.

She trembled in his arms, her breathing short and fast as her hands gripped his shoulders. His name ghosted across her lips, so soft he barely heard it.

"Kira," he breathed back.

But when he reached the barrier of her virginity, he froze. He'd more than suspected that he was the first to ever claim her this way, but the undeniable proof that he was sent a surge of hard, feral possessiveness through him, along with a large dose of satisfaction. She was _his_.

"Dearling," he murmured against her lips. "_Mine._"

He kissed her hard, demandingly, as his hand slipped between them. She gasped and tried to arch her hips to his, but he held her still. He stroked her clit as his tongue tangled with hers, and she clamped down on his cock, hard. He bit his lip to keep from coming, not relenting in his steady movements until she reached another climax.

Only at the height of her pleasure did he allow himself to move again, thrusting his hips forward with one sharp movement and sinking himself to the hilt inside of her. It took every ounce of his self-control not to lose it right then. Her muscles contracted tightly around him as the remnants of his orgasm left her, pleasure acute to the point of pain cutting through every part of his body.

"Kira," he whispered.

Because there was nothing else he could say.

Slowly, he drew his hips back, groaning at the sensation, before sinking back with equal care. He kissed her lips, her throat, her breast, any part of her he could reach as he set a gentle rhythm that nonetheless made rational thought impossible. He'd never known pleasure like this.

The feel of her arms around him, holding him as he made love to her. The satisfaction of finally claiming her as his own. The knowledge that she understood that as well and held him like this anyway. It shook him to his very soul.

Every thrust ratcheted his pleasure up that much more, every kiss made his hold on sanity slip until there was none left. There was just Kira, in his arms, giving herself to him in the most intimate way possible. His breath came out in ragged pants, and his body shook with the effort it took to hold back his release. He'd never in his life finished before his partner, but god _damn_ the way she was whimpering and moaning his name made everything but the need to orgasm impossible to process.

"Kira, dearling," he groaned against her lips. "Please, I-"

His words choked to a halt as another mindless moan of pleasure tore itself from his lips. He could barely remember his own name, let alone how to put together a sentence.

"_Now_," he gasped instead.

And promptly forgot how to breathe when she came for him again.

As with her other climaxes, he relished the sounds she made, the sight of her arching in complete abandonment beneath him, the taste of her as he kissed her. But this time, dear gods, the _feel_ of her clenching around his cock…

He came with a tortured cry, her name wrenching itself from his lips. He buried his face in her neck as shudders wracked his body. Ecstasy tore through him. His hips moved wildly, desperately against hers. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not what he was, not what he'd done, nothing. Nothing except Kira and the feel of her arms around him, and the sound of her breathing soft against his ear, and the beat of her heart against his.

"Kira," he groaned. "Kira."

He held her close as he slowly calmed, as his mind slowly rejoined his body, and the last of the tremors left him. He kissed her softly, mumbling incoherence that made absolutely no sense, but felt right nonetheless. Forcing his own deliciously sated body to shift so that he wouldn't crush her with his weight, he rolled so that he lay on his back, her body tucked carefully against his. He nuzzled his lips against her temple.

"_Gatáki_," he whispered, cradling her against his chest. "Kira."

She sighed in contentment. Her eyes closed, she snuggled deeper into his arms, making his heart clench. He held her possessively, protectively, as she drifted off into dreams.

For a long time after, he watched her sleep, stroking her hair gently. She was beautiful as she rested, her face serene, her breathing soft and even. And though his body was undoubtedly tired, he was wide awake, unwilling to miss even a second of holding her. A deep seated contentment flowed through him, a contentment he hadn't felt since childhood, and she was the reason.

She alone did this, gave him happiness, gave him peace. She soothed his ravaged heart, made him forget, made him want to forgive. She knew what he was and yet she trusted him, she gave herself to him. She was everything good and light and beautiful in his life now.

And in that moment, he knew he loved her.


	8. Chapter 8

Kira woke with a start, her fingers flying to grip her other hand. The skin on her palm felt like it was burning. A deep, insistent sting crawled over her flesh. It felt like hundreds of needles were pricking her, and she made a small sound of pain as she tried to twist away from it.

"Shh, it's okay."

"Stefan?"

Steel corded arms slipped around her, warm fingers circling her wrists and gently pulling her hands apart.

"It will stop soon," he soothed, pulling her back against his chest and curling his much larger frame around hers.

He was right. The sting was fading, leaving behind a pleasant warmth that chased away the last remnants of pain. She relaxed into his arms, a sigh escaping her lips.

"What was that?" she asked when it was completely gone.

His lips touched her ear.

"Look at your hand."

"Oh!"

Her eyes went wide when she looked down. There, on her palm, was a tattoo. Inky black lines swirled across her skin in an odd, interlocking geometrical pattern. They formed strange looking symbols, ones she'd never seen in any book or museum.

"What are they?" she whispered.

His arms tightened, and he rested his chin against her shoulder.

"It's the bond," he answered slowly. "It means I was right. The Fates have destined us to be together, and this is proof."

He flipped over his hand, and she gasped when she saw another tattoo, identical to hers, marking his palm.

"This pattern is unique to us," he murmured. "It shows the rest of the world that you are mine. And that I am yours."

He nuzzled a kiss onto her cheek, and she shivered.

They were quiet for a long while after. He stayed silent, just holding her, his breath falling softly against her shoulder. In contrast, her mind was whirling. So much had happened in the last few hours that she could barely keep up with it.

It felt like a lifetime ago that she had kissed him in her living room. She hadn't meant to. All she remembered was that he'd seemed so torn, so lost, and she hadn't been able to stand seeing that much hurt and uncertainty on his face. And so she'd kissed him, throwing caution to the winds and doing what felt right.

Her cheeks flushed even now, remembering what had followed that kiss. She'd never had the bravery to go anywhere near as far as she had last night, but with Stefan, there had been no second-guessing, no hesitation.

She glanced down at her hand again. She didn't know quite how to feel about the mark that graced it now. On one hand, she was still a bit wary of all this magic business - she still hadn't forgotten how Stefan had taken them from her house to his with what seemed like no more than a thought. But on the other hand, as she glanced over to the matching mark on his palm, she decided she rather liked having a claim on him.

"What are you smiling about?"

She glanced up, surprised, not having realized that she had been.

"Nothing," she said quickly.

"Ah, you are adorable when you're embarrassed," he murmured.

"What?"

"You're blushing. Which means," he paused dramatically, "that you were smiling about _something_. What are you thinking about _gatáki_?"

"Just that…"

"Hmm?"

"Just that I'm glad that there's a mark on you so that maybe all the other women will stop drooling all over you."

It all came out in a jumbled rush, and she ducked her head against his chest as soon as she was finished.

His quiet laugh filled the air around them.

"Dearling," he started, amusement still clear in his voice. "That is nothing to be embarrassed about. Besides, don't you think you worry perhaps a bit too much?"

She'd never thought of herself as a particularly jealous person, she would've gone insane growing up with Isa if she had been, but none of her rules seemed to apply to Stefan.

"No," she said flatly. "Wherever you go, there's a pack of women waiting to attack you at the first sign of weakness."

"There is?"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"I've never noticed," he said, continuing as if he hadn't seen her ire. "The only woman I have eyes for is you."

He laughed again as another blush heated her cheeks. She smiled wryly to herself. She'd never been a huge blusher either, at least until she'd met him.

"You are much too self-conscious," he said, kissing her cheek. "Besides, you are not alone in your thoughts."

"Stefan?"

"Would you like," he started, his voice dropping to a low purr. "To know what I think when I see this mark on your palm?"

Oh goodness, his voice was pure sin.

"I think," he whispered, outlining the shell of her ear with his tongue, "that I have never enjoyed anything so much as seeing proof that you are mine. It makes me...volatile to think of another male near you."

His hand left her waist to rest on her knee.

"I think that it is only fair to give other males warning that they should stay far, far away from you, because I will have no patience for anyone who dares try to touch you."

His hand slid slowly up her thigh, and her breathing hitched. She was very, very aware of the fact that neither of them was wearing a stitch of clothing.

"I think," he breathed, "that there is nothing more I want in the world than to wake up with you in my arms every day and to kiss this mark and know you are mine."

She choked out something that might've been his name. His hand had slipped between her legs, and his fingers, oh his fingers were wicked. It really wasn't her fault that she couldn't think enough to form a whole sentence.

"Stefan-"

"Hmm?"

She felt his lips curve into a smile against her neck as bit down lightly on her neck. He slipped two fingers into her, and she moaned at how good it felt. His other hand reached to cup her jaw, pulling her back for a kiss. Her scream was lost in his mouth as he kissed her, just as she reached her climax.

Lightning hot pleasure shot through her, and she arched, tremors racking her body. His fingers never stopped their wicked movements, even as he shifted so quickly she barely saw it to reposition himself on top of her, and she cried out as another orgasm swept over her. She hadn't regained control of her body before he was suddenly inside of her.

"Kira," he groaned.

He kissed her, hard, as his hips began to move. Long, deep thrusts that made her writhe underneath him as pleasure assailed her. She kissed him back desperately, clutching his shoulders like they were an anchor, because she was losing herself. Losing herself to his touch, his embrace. To him.

She cried out his name as she came, her body convulsing beneath his. Moments later, she felt him join her in climax. As their breathing slowly returned to normal, he gathered her against his chest and rolled, moving so that she tucked against his side.

"Stefan," she sighed.

She snuggled closer, relishing the warm strength of his body next to hers. His arm came around her, and she made a soft noise of contentment. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this happy.

"Stefan," she said again.

"Sleep _gatáki_," he murmured. "Rest."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"I will be with you in the morning."

* * *

She awoke alone.

A delicious ache had taken up residence in her body, and she blinked slowly awake, a smile touching her lips as she remembered last night. She was ridiculously happy. But as she reached over to his side of the bed, the smile fled. Hurt clutched her chest. The bed was empty. Well, almost. She glanced down, curious, and the hurt left just as quickly as it had come.

A single, long-stemmed rose lay on the pillow, a note folded neatly under it.

_Good morning dearling,_

_You looked so peaceful that I did not wish to disturb you, but Draven has woken, and I had to leave to tend him. There is coffee waiting for you in the kitchen, and a towel in the bathroom should you wish to shower. I will return to you soon gatáki._

_Stefan_

"Oh goodness," she mumbled. "I will not cry."

But traitorous tears stung her eyes anyway. The thought of Stefan penning her a note and making her coffee before he left the house was so sweetly domestic and _romantic_ that she could barely wrap her head around it. She wasn't quite in control of her emotions, even when she slipped out of bed and turned to fix the sheets and comforter.

She didn't miss the irony of this déjà vu, especially as she padded into the bathroom and glanced at her impossibly tangled hair in the mirror. But instead of the hurt and loneliness of the last time she'd been here, she felt nothing but joy right now. She smiled giddily all the way through her shower, and her smile only grew when she saw the towel he'd left for her on the marble countertop. She reached to pick it up, but as she did, she realized that there was something else under it.

"Is that…?"

It was. Lying underneath the towel, folded into a perfect, military square, was her favorite blue sundress. Her white cotton cardigan was there too, along with the lacy lingerie set that Isa had given her years ago and that she'd never had the courage to wear. Her cheeks flamed. The thought of Stefan picking that out for her to wear did funny things to her pulse.

She dressed quickly, trying not to think too much about the fact that Stefan had touched everything she was wearing. After making sure that she hadn't left anything out of place in his room, she went downstairs, following the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

She didn't like to snoop, but she had to admit she was curious as she passed through his house. The first time she'd been here, she'd seen part of the downstairs, but she'd been much more focused on him than she had been on his décor. Now, alone, the glaring lack of anything personal in any of the rooms was obvious to her. In fact, most of them were empty.

His house was large, mansion-like almost, something that hadn't been lost on her before. But the emptiness made it seem larger, and as she passed door after door that led to the same, completely bare rooms, she frowned. The ground floor was the same as the upper one. The only rooms with any furnishing seemed to be the living room, his bedroom, and the kitchen, and indeed they seemed to be the only rooms with any decorating at all. The rest weren't even painted, the walls a bright, blank white.

Her brow was still furrowed as she stepped into the kitchen. She wasn't surprised to see it was are utilitarian as his bedroom was, only the necessities and nothing more. A fridge, a sink, a cabinet or two. She frowned suspiciously when she saw a brand new coffee maker looking very out of place on the center island.

Her mind was still troubled, even as she took the waiting mug from beside the pot and filled it, even when she found her hairbrush lying next to it and her heart gave a little stutter. She didn't like the thought of Stefan's life being so empty. She mulled over her thoughts as she worked the tangles out of her hair, wondering what on earth could have prompted him to keep himself so detached from anything, everything.

She sighed. There was so much about him that she didn't know.

"You're not bored of Stefan already, are you?"

Kira whirled at the sound of a voice behind her, knocking over her mug. She yelped as scalding hot coffee spilled over her hand.

"Draven!"

He was leaning against the doorframe, an extremely amused expression on his face. He tsked scoldingly at her when she caught sight of him, shaking his finger.

"You've gone and hurt yourself," he admonished, pushing off the wall.

She watched, eyes wide as he crossed the room and stopped next to her. He reached for her hand, picking it up carefully, gently. With a flick of his fingers, the coffee evaporated from her skin. She gasped.

"Now now," he said, still clearly amused. "Don't tell me Stefan has never done the magic thing with you. The man burns through it like other people burn through toilet paper. Figuratively speaking of course."

"No, he has," she managed.

She studied him intently. There was no strain anywhere in his expression, no tenseness in his body language. Briefly, she wondered if she'd been imagining him bleeding and unconscious in her bed.

"We heal fast," he said, answering her unspoken question.

"Are you…"

"Fine. Peachy. Tip-top shape."

His hands were still busy as he talked, leading her over to the sink and turning on the faucet. He placed her hand under the stream of cold water, and she bit her lip as it hit the reddened skin where the coffee had burned her, just barely missing the mating mark. She knew Draven saw it too, because he raised an eyebrow and let out a low whistle.

"You decided what to do about that yet?" he asked.

"What?"

But instead of answering, he just shrugged.

"Stefan should probably be the one to tell you about that. Now let's see that hand."

He inspected it closely, and after declaring that it wasn't anything she wouldn't survive, he placed it back under the water.

"T-thank you," she said.

He waved it off like it was nothing, an easy smile on his face.

"If you want to thank me, then don't tell Stefan," he whispered.

He leaned close, like he was about to impart a big secret.

"That boy is a touch temperamental when it comes to you, and an angry Stefan is not a very nice Stefan. All that magic you know. One of the most powerful Katagaria magicians I've met in a while. In fact-"

"If you want to keep secrets, don't share them in the middle of my kitchen."

Kira jumped at the sound of Stefan's voice behind her.

"You're going to have to get used to this whole people-flashing-in-and-out-of-places thing," Draven said thoughtfully, looking at the water she'd splashed onto the counter.

Before she could answer him, Stefan pushed him out of the way, taking his place by her side.

"Let me see," he murmured.

He pulled her hand gently from the water, his fingers brushing over her skin so lightly she barely felt it. His lips pressed together in a thin line.

"It's nothing," she said, placing her free hand on his chest. "Really. Just an accident."

She very studiously ignored the thumbs up Draven gave her from behind Stefan.

"Regardless," Stefan said quietly.

He turned off the faucet, opening one of the cabinets on the wall and pulling out a hand towel. He patted her hand dry tenderly, brushing a kiss on her knuckles when he was done.

"Draven?"

He threw the towel across the room to his friend, then looked pointedly at the spilled coffee.

"Fix it."

Kira couldn't help but laugh at the sheepish look on Draven's face as he moved to wipe up the mess.

"It's really not his fault," she said.

Stefan shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist. He didn't seem inclined to say anything as he pulled her close for a kiss that was soft and slow and sweet and absolutely perfect.

"Good morning to you too," she said breathlessly when he finally pulled away.

His answering smile made her heart flutter. He touched her cheek softly.

"It is now."


	9. Chapter 9

"I'm sorry I had to leave you this morning," he murmured.

Stefan searched her face carefully for any sign of hurt, but Kira just smiled and shook her head.

"You had to take care of Draven," she said, tiptoeing to kiss his jaw. "And you left a note. That was very sweet of you."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"So you're not...angry?" he asked hesitantly.

"Why on earth would I be?"

She looked genuinely shocked.

"I sort of went through your closet," he mumbled, gesturing to the dress she wore. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy. I just didn't want you to have to worry about anything and I thought that you might want to change clothes and I-"

"Stefan."

She leaned up to give him a kiss that left him lightheaded.

"You are absolutely perfect."

He sent the gods a silent thank you that Draven had left already. If he'd stayed and heard that, he'd never let Stefan live it down. Ever. But with just Kira, he found that it didn't bother him as much as he'd thought it would, showing that tiny bit of insecurity. Pleasing her was far more important to him than any amount of pride or male bravado.

"I like you in blue," he said, trying not to smile as he remembered picking out the dress she wore along with certain other articles of clothing.

The thought of her wearing those tiny black lace panties and bra made his groin tighten.

To distract himself, he played with the ends of her hair, watching the silken curls slip between his fingers. Still slightly damp from her shower, the chocolate waves reached the middle of her back, and he let out a small purr. He absolutely adored her hair. Softer than silk and wrapped in that scent that was uniquely her.

"Stefan?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

He paused, his fingers stilling in her hair. There was a serious note to her voice, and he would hazard a guess that he already knew what she was thinking.

"Of course," he answered.

"What attacked Draven last night, and what did he mean Katagaria, and what was he talking about when he asked me what I was going to do about this?"

She raised her hand to show him the mating mark.

"I think," he said, trying to keep the mood light. "That that was more than one question."

She smiled, but her eyes were still serious. He sighed.

And so he told her. He told her about Apollites and Daimons, about King Lycaon. He explained how Lycaon had blended his sons' bodies with those of the most powerful animals he could find, so they would be spared from an Apollite death; how the gods had cursed him for his actions by fating his sons to hate each other for eternity. One with a human heart, one with an animal heart. Arcadian and Katagaria.

All the while he was talking, he watched her face carefully, ready to stop at any second if she looked uncomfortable or scared. But instead, she just nodded and asked the occasional question, her brow furrowed in thought. Even when he hesitantly explained that he was Katagaria, that he truly was an animal who was simply in human guise, she didn't flinch.

"Wow," she breathed when he was finished. "How do humans not have any idea that all of this exists?"

He smiled, reaching across the table to lace his fingers through hers. Somehow during the course of all his explaining and storytelling, they'd ended up sitting at the island, on adjacent sides of the steel counter. A mug of coffee sat in front of each them.

"We keep our world very well hidden," he said, smirking just the tiniest bit at the understatement.

"I'll say."

He was rather amused by reaction, but more than that, he was relieved. Blessedly, gloriously, most likely even giddily, relieved. He'd told her he was a monster, and she was very obviously was okay with it. It was that that gave him the steel to answer her last question, and hope, just maybe, she'd be okay with that too.

"Kira, dearling."

"Yes?"

She looked up, her grey eyes curious.

"Do you remember what I told you last night about...these?"

He gestured to their palms.

"Of course. You said it was proof."

"It is, it's just...this isn't the end of it. Just because they've appeared doesn't mean the bond is finished."

"What do you mean?"

The Fates were cruel bitches is what he meant.

"I mean that there's one more step to complete the bond, to make it permanent. It's just temporary right now."

He was absurdly pleased that she didn't seem to take that last bit too well.

"And there's a lot more I should tell you, that I should have told you, before you decide whether to finalize it or not."

He took a deep breath.

"We have three weeks from the time the marks appear to finish the bond. If we don't, you...you will no longer be able to bear children. If we do, you will be able to conceive only with me."

He winced. He should have told her this long ago, before he'd ever made love to her. He'd all but told her that it was him or infertility, and he hated giving her an ultimatum like this. His jaw hardened. If she had to make this decision, she would make it for herself, not for him. He would not tell her what the Fates would do to him, should she decide against mating him in truth.

"Know also that even should you decide to make this-"

He pointed to the marks.

"-permanent, you have yet another choice to make. When, if, we consummate our bond, you alone will have the power to decide whether to make it a claiming or a true bonding. Should you decide on the former, nothing will change from the way it is now. But should you choose the latter, we will be one in ever sense of the word. It means that your life will be bound to mine. You will live as long as I do Kira, should it be another seven years or seven hundred."

Her lips parted in shock.

"D-does it work the other way too?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Oh my goodness," she whispered.

She clutched her mug tightly, nibbling on her lower lip as she thought. He tried not to concentrate on the sight too much, telling his overeager body that now was not the time for his recently insatiable libido. This was too important. And so he sat, silently, waiting. He refused to let himself say anything else to her. He'd told her what was going to happen, what her choices were. He would not tempt himself to try and influence her decision by speaking. This was her choice, and her choice alone.

He watched her face as she thought, distracting himself. He watched the play of emotions across her features, watched the furrow of her brow as she mumbled silently to herself. Her nails tapped nervously on the table.

"If you need time to think," he said quietly. "I will stay away for as long as you need-"

"No!"

She flushed.

"I just meant that I, I don't want you to leave."

She stood, abandoning her coffee and pacing to the window. Her hands wrung nervously in front of her, and she was still biting her bottom lip. He watched her as she rested her arms on the windowsill, staring off at some point in the distance.

"It's a lot to think about," she said softly. "I-, it's a big decision."

She turned to face him.

"I want to be with you Stefan. No matter how crazy this all is, or how much it scares me, I-"

He barely heard what she was saying. _I want to be with you_. The words kept echoing in his head, over and over. Despite everything he'd just told her, she still wanted him. A hard shudder wracked his body. He loved her even more in that moment.

"Stefan?"

"Kira."

It was all he could say.

He stood and crossed the room in one fluid movement, his arms encircling her and pulling her close.

"I'm scared," she whispered, hugging his waist.

"Don't be," he breathed back. "I will wait for you _gatáki_. Forever if I have to."

"But you said-"

"No matter what you decide, I will wait for you."

And he meant it.

* * *

Stefan crossed his arms and stared flatly at Kira.

"Human males are stupid."

She managed to blush and look surprised at the same time, and he felt his lips twitch. She really was too adorable for words.

"Stefan-"

"It does not matter how you put it _gatáki_, my opinion will not change."

She'd invited him over for dinner, and, truth be told, Draven as well, but seeing as Stefan had conveniently forgotten to pass along the invitation, he now stood with Kira alone in her living room. They'd finished eating a while ago, something he was immeasurably grateful for. He'd never known watching someone eat could be erotic, but watching her lips close around the fork, and her tongue catching drops of sauce from the corner or her mouth...he was surprised he hadn't gone up in flames.

Which was exactly why he couldn't quite believe what she was telling him now.

He'd been inspecting her mantle, something he hadn't had the time nor the peace of mind to do the last time he'd been here, and he'd been caught by a picture of her and her sister. But while Isabella wore a scarlet red gown that bared much more than it showed, and had ribbons in her hair and high heels on her feet, Kira wore nothing more extravagant than sweatpants and a t-shirt that was just a bit too large. Curious, he'd asked her why they were dressed so differently.

"It was a Christmas party," she'd explained. "Isa went, and I didn't."

When he'd asked her why again, she'd answered quite simply, "no one asked me."

After which he'd promptly declared human males the stupidest species to ever walk the planet.

He peered closer at the picture - it was recent. Her hair was just a tad shorter, her skin perhaps just a bit less tanned. But what really caught his attention was not that or Isa or her scandalous dress or her thousand-watt smile, it was Kira and the sweats he wanted to peel off of her with his teeth. A soft growl escaped his throat as he stared at the photo. Isabella's mostly bared body and her perfectly made up face and her coiffed hair did absolutely nothing for him. His nose twitched just thinking of what that much hairspray would smell like. But Kira...his body tightened. Her soft brown curls tumbled over her shoulders in a charming disarray, and her unpainted lips were curved in a gentle smile as she hugged her sister and looked at the camera.

In short, she was perfect.

She didn't need makeup or expensive clothes or a teased coiffure to be beautiful. She was stunning just the way she was. It was completely beyond his comprehension that the males around her had not realized that. If he had known her then, she would not have stayed home from that party.

Or, he thought, his lips curving wickedly, he rather thought she would have. Had he known her then, he would have made good on his intent to strip her naked with his teeth.

"I do not understand," he said, shaking his head. "I have never given thought to those who claim humans are inferior to us, but perhaps they are right. You are the most desirable female I've ever encountered, and if your males do not see that, I can find no other word for them than stupid."

She blushed and ducked her head.

"I didn't mind not being asked you know," she mumbled.

His smile widened as he stalked slowly across the room towards her.

"Really," he drawled.

"No, I-"

He leapt before she could finish. Grabbing her around the waist, he fell back onto the couch with her on top of him, laughing at her shriek of surprise.

"Stefan!" she gasped, smacking his chest.

"I couldn't help myself _gatáki_. If you had said another word, I would have been obligated to seek out all of those males and beat some sense into them."

"You-"

He cut her off again, this time with a kiss. He molded his lips to hers, slipping one hand from her waist to tangle in her hair. His already semi-aroused cock hardened instantly, and he couldn't help but arch his hips up into hers.

"Stefan?" she whispered.

He laughed softly, moving to nibble on her neck.

"Have you not realized by now dearling, that I want you always?"

He contented himself with kissing her throat for a while before he pulled back, though he kept her seated in his lap. They sat in comfortable silence. Simply holding her like this was enough for him.

"Stefan?" she asked eventually.

"Hmm?"

"Since we were talking about Isa anyway-"

"_You_ were talking about Isa. _I_ was talking about you."

She rolled her eyes.

"Well since I was talking about Isa, I wanted to talk to you about something."

She started to slide off his lap so she could reach for an envelope on the side table next to the couch, but he wouldn't allow it. He was much too comfortable with her in his lap. So instead, he waved his hand, and the envelope appeared in his fingers.

"Show off," she mumbled, taking it from him.

He laughed. It'd been only a few days since he'd told her to take her time making her decision, but in that short period of time, she'd been remarkably understanding of his...quirks. Like the fact that he could use magic or that he turned into a giant leopard when he slept. Little things like that.

"What is this?" he asked as he turned the envelope over in his hand.

It was fancy. The kind of envelope that had to have come from a stationary store, because it was far too expensive for anywhere else - heavy paper lined with carefully inked calligraphy.

"A wedding invitation," she explained.

"We're getting married?"

He arched one brow, enjoying the disgruntled look she shot him as she snatched the envelope from his hand. He peered over her shoulder as she opened the card inside, cocking his head to the side when he saw the invitation was printed in Italian. He'd learned how to speak the language long ago, Italy being quite close to his native Greece, but he'd never found the need to become literate in it.

"'Giacamo Caladrino and Miss Isabella Regina de Luca request the honor of your presence at their marriage on Sunday, the first of January, at five o'clock in the afternoon. St. Benedict's Cathedral - 17 Matteotti Street, Brindisi, Italy'" she read aloud.

"Your sister is getting married?" he asked, surprised.

She nodded.

"So soon?"

It was already December 14th.

"I've had the invitation for a while," she said, carefully tucking it back into its envelope. "But will you? Go with me?"

He smiled, dropping a kiss on her nose.

"Of course I will."

She sighed happily, hugging him tight.

"I think it's going to be fun," she said, laying her head on his chest. "I haven't been home in a while, not since last year."

"Do you miss your family?"

"More than anything."

He heard the wistful sigh in her voice, and he hugged her closer. But even as he felt her begin to fall asleep, her breathing peaceful, even, his mind wandered down a different path.

Her family.

His jaw tightened as he thought about his parents, about Ekaterina. They were the one thing he had yet to tell her, all his other secrets were laid bare for her. But his family… He didn't know why he wouldn't, couldn't tell her. Maybe it was because no matter how much he loved her, part of him still didn't believe that she could ever love him back. Or maybe it was because he feared that even if she could, she wouldn't any more, not after he told her about how his parents died. Especially his mother.

He had been the one to kill her after all.


	10. Chapter 10

"And _that_ is how I killed the dragon and rescued the damsel in distress."

Kira giggled.

"No, really, there was a dragon."

Draven threw her a devilish smile, the kind that had the power to turn a woman into a puddle of goo. His eyes, a piercing jewel gold, shone with laughter. He winked.

"Good lord," she said. "Any other woman would have swooned by now."

"But not you?"

She shook her head.

"Ah, you wound me," he said, clutching his heart dramatically.

"I'll wound you," Stefan muttered.

Kira giggled again.

She liked Draven, a lot. He was smart and witty and a shameless charmer, but underneath it all, he was a good man and a fiercely loyal friend to Stefan, and she liked him a great deal. When he'd asked her to join him and Stefan on one of their nighttime walks, she'd agreed without hesitation.

"Was there really a dragon?" she asked, trying to hide her smile.

Draven nodded solemnly while Stefan snorted in amusement.

"I'm sure there was damsel, but I can assure you, there was no dragon," he said, rolling his eyes.

His tone was flippant, but his eyes glinted with amusement, and Kira smiled happily. He'd been broody for the past few days. They'd settled into a comfortable pattern, the two of them, and it'd hurt to see him so upset. But tonight, now, he was laughing and smiling, and she sighed in contentment. Even when the three of them fell into silence, it was easy, companionable. She let her mind wander as they turned another street corner.

"_Gatáki_?"

"Hmm?"

"You are shivering."

She looked up, surprised. Now that he mentioned it, it _was_ cold…and she hadn't brought a jacket. A quick glance at Stefan and Draven told her they hadn't either, but they both looked toasty warm anyway. She made a face at them.

"It's not fair that you don't need a jacket," she grumbled.

Draven burst out laughing, and Stefan smiled, running a hand over her hair.

"I will get your sweater for you dearling, wait here."

He disappeared.

"You didn't even flinch that time," Draven noted.

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed again. Good lord, the man was handsome. She shook her head. If she weren't so in love with Stefan she'd-

She stilled.

She loved Stefan. She didn't know when it'd happened or how it'd happened, but she knew she did. Without reservation and without hesitation, she knew she loved him.

And with that, she unfroze, and a huge smile lit her face. She loved someone. It didn't feel like what she'd always imagined it would when she was a child. There were no lovebirds circling and no angels singing and no showers of hearts and roses. Instead, it was...warm. Warm and comforting and thrilling and everything all rolled into one.

It was perfect.

"Oh god," Draven groaned. "Not you too."

"What?"

She flashed him a wide smile, unable to contain her sudden burst of happiness.

"You have this giddy kind of look on your face. The same one Stefan gets every time I mention your name."

He let his eyes cross and his tongue loll out.

"Stop it!" she laughed, punching his arm. "I do not look like that."

He pulled back, grinning.

"No, but really," he said. "I'm happy for you two. Especially now that you've completed the, you know-"

He waved his hand a and pointed to his palm.

She bit her lip. Because no, she and Stefan hadn't completed the bond yet. He'd told her it was her decision to make, and he hadn't said a word to her about it since he'd first explained everything to her just over a week ago. But that didn't mean she hadn't already made up her mind.

When he'd told her about the magic surrounding the bond, she'd hesitated about it. She couldn't deny that the thought of living for several hundred years had daunted her at first. But when she'd realized that the alternative was living for just another fifty, without him, she'd realized that she'd never really had a choice.

"We haven't finished it yet," she said softly. "But we will, I want to. He said it was my choice."

Draven let out a low whistle.

"I'm surprised he hasn't been hounding you incessantly about it."

"What?"

He frowned.

"He didn't tell you? If you don't complete the bond within the allotted time, he becomes impotent. For life."

She blanched.

"No, he didn't tell me that."

Impotent. For life. No, Stefan had failed to mention that little fact to her, and she immediately knew that it hadn't been by mistake. Tears blurred her eyes. When he'd said it was completely up to her, that he wouldn't try to influence her decision, she hadn't realized how serious he'd been. He'd kept the consequences of what could happen from her so she wouldn't feel pressured. She sniffled a tiny bit. She loved him more in that minute than she'd ever loved anyone else.

"Please don't cry," Draven said, reminding her that he was still there.

He sounded frantic.

"Do you have any idea what he's going to do to me if he comes back and you're in tears? He's going to skin me alive and then mount my head on his wall."

She laughed, a slightly warbled sound because yes, she was crying now. Stefan was the most selfless and loving person she'd ever met, and the knowledge of just exactly how much selfless and loving that meant had tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"No sorries, just no tears either. Dear gods woman, my life is in the balance here. Did you not hear the part about him skinning me alive?"

"I am going to do much worse than that if you do not tell me why she is crying."

"Oh my god," Draven moaned. "I'm going to die now."

Stefan ignored him, pushing him none-too-gently out of his way and stepping to her side. He took one look at her tear-stained face and pulled her into his arms.

"What is wrong _gatáki_?" he crooned gently, stroking her hair soothingly as he pulled back to look at her. "Are you hurt? I will kill him now if you wish it."

Draven had his face pressed against the brick wall of the building next to them and appeared to be in the process of offering prayers up to Olympus. She laughed through her tears.

"Draven didn't do anything," she said, swiping at her eyes. "I don't even know why I'm crying."

It was a lie, she knew exactly why she was crying, but she didn't want to tell him why yet. It was important to her that he know she'd made her decision before Draven had told her what would happen to him if she'd chosen not to complete the bond. She didn't want him thinking she'd done it out of guilt or some sense of obligation. She'd chosen him because she loved him.

"Kira? You're scaring me dearling. What is wrong?"

His eyes narrowed.

"I will kill him now for making you cry."

Draven's incoherent mumbling grew louder.

"Stefan," she said, resting her hands on his chest. "He really didn't do anything. I'm just tired and emotional, and I started crying. Women do that sometimes."

He cocked his head to the side, but his anger was gone. He looked curious.

"Human females are odd," he said.

She laughed softly and wiped the last of her tears from her cheeks. She hadn't been completely lying. She _was_ tired and emotional. Figuring out she that was in love and acknowledging the fact that she'd decided to spend the next few hundred years mated to a Were-leopard tended to do that to her.

But now that she had it, she wanted it. All of it. All of _him_.

And she wanted him now.

"Stefan," she said abruptly. "Will you take me home?"

His anger returned instantly, and he narrowed his eyes.

"You are hurt. Tell me what is wrong-"

"Everything is fine, I promise. I just-, please?"

They were in her living room before she could blink. She was still in his arms, his hands resting on her hips as he peered worriedly into her face. She knew he was waiting for her to say something, but in all honesty, she didn't quite know how to go about telling him why she'd asked him to take her home. Life altering decisions like this weren't ones she was accustomed to addressing with any sort of regularity, and certainly not with any sort of eloquence. So she settled on directness.

"I want you."

She felt more than saw the sharp flash of surprise that ran through his body, and she_ definitely_ felt the arousal that followed hot on its heels. He made sure of that. The hands on her hips tightened, pulling her closer, and he let out a low growl.

"Wait," she gasped, turning her head to avoid his kiss.

One touch of his lips was usually enough to send her brain somewhere where it couldn't be troubled by trivial things like rational thought, and she wanted to say this right. But Stefan didn't seem to bothered by her evasion, and his mouth settled on her neck instead. He placed hot, open-mouthed kisses along her throat.

"Stefan-"

"You taste good," he growled.

"Stefan!"

He pulled back with an exasperated sigh, his lips pushing out in the most adorable pout she'd ever seen. She almost laughed. If Stefan knew she was calling him _adorable_, he'd have an aneurysm.

"_Gatáki_," he said. "What is wrong? I know you want me as much as I do you, I can smell your arousal."

Her cheeks flamed, but she forced herself to ignore both it and the wicked grin he gave her that threatened to turn her legs to jelly.

"Stefan, when I said I want you, I meant-, I meant I want_ you_. I want to complete the bond. I want this, us, to be permanent."

He froze. In fact, he hardly seemed to be breathing.

"Dearling..."

"I love you."

"_Kira_."

His mouth was on hers before she'd realized he'd moved, his hands on her hips, her back, her shoulders. He kissed her frantically, his tongue tangling with hers in a way that made her weak in the knees. And, even as that thought occurred to her, he swept her up into his arms. He carried her through the house, his lips never once leaving hers, towards her room. He collapsed onto the bed with her cradled against him.

"Mine," he growled savagely.

She shivered under the intensity of his gaze as he pulled back to look at her. He straddled her hips, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, reaching out to touch her cheek.

She turned her face to kiss his palm, and a hard shudder wracked his body. His eyes, black with desire, never left her own as he slid his hand down her throat to rest on her breastbone. He paused there, one finger tracing the neckline of her blouse. Her breathing hitched as he dipped below the hem to cup her breast. His thumb brushed teasingly over her nipple, and she let out a small moan. His eyes narrowed. Her shirt and bra disappeared, and before she realized what he'd done, his lips replaced his hands.

Heat flashed through her, her lips parting on a gasp. His tongue and teeth were doing odd and wonderful things to her pulse, and she felt languid pleasure slide through her to pool between her legs. Grasping his shoulders, she pulled him closer.

With Stefan, there was never any hesitation, never any embarrassment. He made her feel desirable. When he called her beautiful, she believed him. She hadn't said anything to him, but when he'd seen Isa's picture and promptly declared that he wanted only her, she'd almost cried. And now, there was nothing awkward or stunted about the way she arched into his touch, about the way her hands slid into his hair to hold him to her. There was only him and how much she loved him and how much she wanted him.

"You are mine," he growled as he nipped his way back to her lips.

She shivered. The feral possessiveness she saw in his eyes and heard in his voice tied her stomach in knots. His lips closed over hers again. Running his hands down her side as his tongue tangled with hers, he slowly inched her skirt down her legs. The feel of soft satin sliding against her skin was incredibly sensual, but it was nothing compared to the feel of his hands as they traced the skin they'd just bared. Suddenly impatient to touch him as well, she tugged at his shirt.

"I think," he laughed huskily, breaking his lips from hers and reaching to still her hands. "That you might want me as much as I want you."

She blushed, and he laughed again. He sat up, still straddling her hips, his hands finding the hem of his shirt. His eyes locked on hers, he pulled it slowly over his head. Her breath hitched. She wasn't exactly an expert on male anatomy, but she'd wager that not every other man had perfectly bronzed skin or a stomach that rippled with muscle or hipbones that were sexy enough to melt her into a puddle of goo. She bit her lip as she stared at him.

"If you don't stop looking at me like that _gatáki_, I will not have the control to remember that the mating is yours to complete."

She didn't understand him, and it must have shown on her face, because his lips tipped into a small smile.

"Weres are sexual creatures dearling. We complete the bond through sex."

And before she could answer, his mouth was on hers again. Hot, hard kisses made her burn, and his hands trailed fire wherever they went. She barely even noticed when he slid off her panties, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms. But when his hands delved between her legs, she most _definitely_ noticed that.

She cried out his name as he slipped one finger into her. White hot pleasure shot through her as he thrust slowly in and out of her. Her hips moved of their own accord, rising and falling to meet his motions, and when his thumb found her clit, she fell apart.

Hard shudders of pleasure wracked her body, and she screamed, the sound lost in his mouth as he kissed her. His fingers didn't stop until she lay limp and panting beneath him. Her body trembled with the aftershocks of her release, and she moaned as he withdrew his hand. His breathing was just as ragged as hers when he pulled back.

"Kira," he rasped. "I want you so badly right now that I hurt to be inside of you. I have never desired anything so much as I do this. But I have to ask you."

His jaw clenched.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "I love you."

He shuddered.

"Say that again," he whispered.

"I love you."

With a hoarse exclamation, he crushed her mouth to his, kissing her with a barely contained energy that made her arousal return in a heartbeat. She knew he'd used magic when she no longer felt his jeans rubbing against her skin. His hips ground into hers, his hand teasing her breast. Wanting, needing to be closer, she wrapped one leg around his waist, gasping when she felt his erection press between his legs.

"Oh my _god_," he groaned, jerking hard against her.

She wiggled underneath him, and his hand flew to grip the headboard.

"Kira," he gasped. "Stop."

She used her leg as leverage and arched her hips to his, grinding them slowly, the way he had.

"Dearling," he pleaded. "You have to stop. I can't- _god damn_."

She'd angled her hips just the right way, shifted just so, and now he was sliding slowly into her.

"I can't do this," he moaned. "Please, Kira. The bond-"

"Next time," she whispered.

And then he was fully inside of her, his thrusts hard and deep as snarls and growls slid from between his clenched teeth. She gasped as pleasure struck every cell in her body. His hand was anchored on her hip, the other braced on the bed next to her. His lips were on her neck. She moaned at how good he felt inside of her, her hips rising and falling to meet him thrust for thrust. The sensations hit her one right after another, a never-ending barrage of feeling that threatened to claim her sanity. But just when she thought she would die from the pleasure of it all, she exploded.

She cried out his name, arching under him as her climax tore through her. After two more thrusts, he joined her, his body trembling above hers as he came. He collapsed next to her when it was over.

"Kira," he breathed, pulling her tight against him and raining kisses on her lips, her cheek, her jaw. "My Kira, my love."

He framed her face between his palms, his eyes liquid amber as they stared into hers.

"I love you," he whispered. "More than anything. You are everything to me, the only thing that matters. I will love you forever."

He sealed his words with a kiss so tender it brought tears to her eyes.

"I love you," he repeated softly.

He brushed a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you."


	11. Chapter 11

He was exhausted, but he couldn't sleep.

_She loved him._

Stefan kept hearing her say the words "I love you" in his head, over and over, and he shivered just thinking about it. Kira, his Kira, loved him. It was something he couldn't quite wrap his head around. He touched her lips tenderly as she slept, wondering what he'd ever done to deserve her, knowing that he _couldn't_ have done anything to deserve her. He kissed her cheek and pulled her closer.

After they'd made love, he'd urged her to sleep. Now that she'd decided to mate him, he saw no reason to rush. They had two weeks left. Besides, he wanted their joining to be perfect, and he hadn't exactly been in the frame of mind for anything remotely resembling finesse earlier. No, he was content to wait. He would-

The shrill sound of the phone ringing jerked him out of his thoughts. Reaching out with his magic, he quickly silenced it. He scowled at the receiver on the nightstand next to the bed. Who in their right mind would call at one in the morning and try to wake Kira from her sleep? The answering machine clicked on, and he glanced next to him worriedly, but Kira only murmured sleepily and snuggled deeper into his arms.

"Guess who?" called a sing song voice over the machine.

He raised an eyebrow. The woman was speaking Italian.

"It's your favorite sister in the whole world," the voice, Isabella he deduced, continued. "And guess what else? You're coming here tomorrow! Nope, don't even bother arguing. I talked Giacamo into booking you an earlier flight, and you leave at on Saturday at seven in the morning. I know you end school on Friday, and that you're on break until the 8th of the new year. I already sent you the flight information and everything, so it's all very final, and I think it'd be terribly hurtful to Giacamo if you ignored all his hard work. Besides, don't you want to make me happy? I'm getting married. You should make me happy. So don't forget to pack a dress for church on Sunday, and I'll see you soon! Ciao!"

Stefan stared at the receiver for a good half minute after it shut off - Kira hadn't been lying when she'd said her sister was a force of nature. He shook his head. Meeting Isabella in person was suddenly ranked rather high on his bucket list, right below mating Kira, making love to Kira, and ensuring that Kira was the most spoiled and doted on woman in the world. And, he thought amusedly, he wouldn't have to wait long. By tomorrow night, they were expected in Italy. He wondered if Kira had told her family that he was coming. Probably not, he thought, considering that she'd only shown him the invitation a day or two ago. Besides, Isabella hadn't mentioned anything about booking two seats on the airplane.

He smiled. Whether she had or not, he and Kira were not going to be flying. He was not a fan of enclosed spaces, nor was he crazy about the thought of Kira surrounded by a bunch of strange males. No, he would flash them to Italy. It was much less hassle than an airport, and would save them twelve hours of travel time.

With a sigh, he settled down next to her, burying his face in her hair and wrapping an arm loosely around her waist. He was rather looking forward to meeting her family. There were important to her, and that made them important to him. The only thing that worried him though, was that, maybe, they would not feel the same way about him. _He_ knew he would never deserve her and her love, but he fervently hoped that _they_ didn't think the same.

He sighed. Even if they didn't disapprove of him, he was sure they weren't going to give him their blessing either. Kira came from a large and loving family. He was almost certain that he would have a hard time blending. Never mind that his Italian was rusty from centuries of disuse, or that he himself was very obviously not Italian, but he had never been the most stunning of socialites.

He sighed again and hugged her closer.

Whether Kira's family accepted him or not was not something he could control, certainly not something he could change by worrying about it. And so, after brushing a final kiss on her temple and making sure that she was tucked safely against his side, he closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

* * *

Something wasn't right.

Stefan sniffed the air carefully, frowning. He was walking down the hallway of the elementary school where Kira taught. He'd planned to take her home and spend a lazy night with her before leaving for Italy tomorrow, dinner, maybe a movie. Most definitely making love. But as he moved down the empty corridor, something unsettled him. There was the sound of the air-conditioning, the occasional footfall in another part of the building, but something, somewhere was not right. He walked a bit faster.

"-pretty for a teacher."

The sound of a decidedly male voice floated to reach his ears as he neared Kira's classroom. He tensed.

"Mr. McKen, I don't see what this has to do with Casey."

Kira's voice. So whoever the man was, he was in her room with her.

"Mr. McKen-"

"Greg, please."

"Mr. McKen, I asked you to come so we could discuss Casey. She's having issues learning her letters, much more so than is normal, and I wanted to talk about the possibility of a learning disorder, maybe even dyslexia."

"If she needs help, you could always tutor her. You'd be welcome at my house anytime."

"I'm being serious. I would recommend that you go in for testing with her."

Stefan gritted his teeth. Kira obviously had no idea that the soon-to-be-dead man was attempting to woo her. His fingers itched to grab the door handle, but he forced himself to stay still. She wouldn't appreciate him barging in on a parent meeting.

"Casey is fine, especially with a woman like you as her teacher," Greg continued.

"Mr. McKen, I really think that-"

"Really, there's no need to be so formal Kira. You can call me Greg."

"It's Mrs. Kouris to you."

A wave of purely male satisfaction went through him at the sound of her using his last name. She was his, and he wanted the whole world to know it.

"Mrs.?" Greg asked, sounding amused. "I don't see a ring."

Stefan growled. As soon as he killed the idiot, he was going to buy the gaudiest ring possible her.

"It was recent," Kira said stiffly. "Now, I think that we should-"

"I'm single."

And that was it.

He threw open the door to her classroom. Kira sat at her desk against the back wall, Greg in the chair across from her. His elbows were braced on the desk, and he leaned forward, leering. Stefan fought down a snarl that threatened to escape at the sight of another man so close to her. He stalked across the room, forcing himself to move at a human a pace.

"_Gatáki_."

He moved to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders, and his mind flashed back to the first time he'd met her, when she'd been in much the same situation. He scowled. He was going to have to lock her away where the rest of the world would never find her; his Kira was much too desirable for her own good.

"Who are you?" Greg demanded, jerking his thoughts back to the present.

Stefan narrowed his eyes.

"I'm her husband. Who the hell are you?"

Greg's mouth fell open, and he swallowed nervously as he took in all six feet four inches of tall, pissed-off Were-Hunter. Stefan didn't often choose to use his size or his powers to take advantage of a situation, but he did now. He curled his lips back over his teeth in a snarl .

"I do not tolerate anyone who disrespects my wife," he said darkly.

"I wasn't-"

"And I do not appreciate those who lie either."

He rounded the desk slowly, using the measured, predatory steps he usually reserved for hunting. Greg backed up so fast that he almost fell out of his chair. If he hadn't been so irritated, he might've found it amusing, but he was, and he didn't, and Stefan silently weighed the benefits of dismemberment versus disembowelment as he stalked forward.

"I wasn't doing anything," Greg protested, a small bead of sweat forming on his upper lip.

"Weren't you?" he challenged softly.

"N-no."

"I-"

"Stefan."

Kira's voice caught his attention, and he turned to face her.

"Stefan, it's fine," she said softly. "Really."

"He tries to woo you _gatáki_. That is not fine."

She smiled, and he felt some of his anger fade. Really, how could he stay mad when she was looking at him like that?

"I don't think he'll try to again,"she said, sounding amused.

"Very well," he sighed. "For you."

He turned, grabbed Greg by the front of his shirt, and slammed him into the nearest wall.

"You are lucky she is more forgiving than I am," he growled, taking perverse satisfaction in the terrified squeak that escaped the other man's throat. "Were she not, I would have torn you to pieces."

He leaned forward until his lips almost touched Greg's ear.

"If you come near my wife again, I assure you that she will not save you a second time. Now go."

And Greg went. Ran, really. Almost tripping over himself in his haste to flee the room. Stefan curled his lip in disgust as he watched him.

"You're awful scary when you make that face."

He immediately blanked his expression, horrified that he'd acted that way around her, when he realized she was teasing. He smiled sheepishly.

"I couldn't help it," he admitted, holding open his arms for her. "The sight of him so near to you was...disagreeable."

He felt more than heard her laugh as she slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. The familiar smell of caramel and freesia that was uniquely her enveloped his senses, and he purred softly.

"Kira," he said suddenly. "Did you really mean what you said before?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you were my wife."

He pulled back in time to see her cheeks go pink.

"Oh, that," she said, sounding flustered. "You said that we were-, and I thought that-. Don't be mad?"

He nearly choked.

"Mad?"

He whirled to press her against the wall. But unlike with Greg, he was infinitely careful, caging her gently with his arms.

"Kira," he growled, dropping his head to kiss her throat. "I have never been happier than I was hearing you use my name. I am not _mad_, I am _ecstatic_."

He didn't have words to describe how much he liked hearing her call herself his wife.

"You are mine," he purred, nuzzling the curve of her shoulder with his lips. "And I wish that you would carry my name always."

"Stefan," she sighed.

"You are mine," he repeated. "And I wish that the rest of the world would know it."

* * *

"Kira! Kira, Kira, Kira, Kira. Papa! Kira's here!"

Stefan winced.

The rapid and _loud_ flow of Italian coming from the house was enough to hurt his ears even from the driveway. Though he'd flashed himself and Kira to Italy, he'd been forced to allow them to take a taxi to her house. It wouldn't do to materialize in the middle of a residential area.

"Your sister is rather excited you're here," he murmured to her as the taxi pulled away, smiling. "I can hear her shouting from here."

She winced.

"I'm sorry. Isa has never been one for subtlety."

"There is nothing to apologize for," he said. "It merely shows how much your family adores you."

He draped one arm possessively around her shoulders, the other grasping the handle of the suitcase she'd packed. He'd been surprised - Draven had told him that women were particular about traveling, that they packed much more than they needed, most of it unnecessary. But Kira had not. All she'd taken was her purse and one small suitcase, half of it filled with his clothes. He'd protested and said he could flash himself new clothes every morning, but she'd said that her family would be suspicious if he hadn't packed anything, and she'd insisted he bring at least a few pairs of jeans and a t-shirt or two.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Only that I am very glad you are not like other females. I was imagining lugging around a fleet of suitcases."

She laughed as she looked up at him, and he smiled dotingly, just as the front door opened. It wasn't, he thought, a bad way for her family to first see them.

"Kira! You're finally here! I would've picked you up from the airport myself, but Mama wanted help finishing dinner, and I-"

Isabella cut off mid-rant, her hand freezing on the doorknob as her eyes widened.

"Isa? What is it? What's wrong?" asked a deep male voice.

A man suddenly appeared in the doorway. Kira's father. Carlo de Luca was a bear of a man, only a few inches shorter than Stefan. His black hair was liberally streaked with grey, but it didn't diminish from the proud regality with which he held himself, and Stefan would wager that the man was in better shape than most men half his age.

"Papa!"

Kira wiggled out from under his arm and ran to her father. Carlo's harsh features instantly softened as he caught his daughter up in a hug.

"Welcome home," he said fondly, ruffling her hair. "It has been too long since you visited us. You should come live with us once again."

"I couldn't possibly," Kira laughed.

"Because of him?"

Stefan didn't miss the way Carlo's eyes narrowed when he jerked a thumb in his direction.

"Who is he Kira? An American? I do not approve."

"Papa!"

"If you marry one, you will never return home."

"Papa-"

"You must leave him immediately. You're mother will find you a nice Italian boy to marry and-"

"Papa, he speaks Italian!"

Carlo's eyes narrowed even further, and he squinted suspiciously at Stefan.

"You speak _italiano_?"

Before he could answer, Kira grabbed his hand and laced her fingers through his.

"Stefan, this is my father Carlo, and my sister Isabella. Papa, Isa, this is Stefan Kouris, my fiancé."

"_Fiancé_?"

Stefan fought down a smug smile. He'd made good on his promise to get a ring on Kira's hand as soon as he'd taken her home last night. He'd been considering it for quite a while - it was important to him that she have a human marriage as well as a Were mating - and he'd already had a ring. He'd just ended up proposing a bit sooner than he'd intended.

There'd been many murmured endearments, quite a bit of tears, and very goodly amount of love-making. The urge to smirk grew more pronounced.

"Your _fiancé_?" Carlo repeated, his voice rising in volume by the second. "You did not tell me you had a boyfriend, much less that you would marry him! No, I do not care if he understands me. Kira Serafina de Luca, you explain yourself this instant!"

"Papa, I do not think that is the best way to welcome guests."

Stefan turned, having forgotten that Isa was still there.

"Isabella, do not-"

"They are tired Papa, and I'd warrant hungry as well. They have been traveling for a long time to be guests for my wedding, and I will not have you putting them through the Spanish Inquisition before they have even had time to rest."

"But-"

"Go, Mama wants your help making the sausage. You can speak with them at dinner."

She shooed her father out of the foyer before turning to face them again.

"Now," she said, a slow smile creeping over her face. "Stefan, I'm sure you're _horribly_ tired after traveling so long. You can freshen up in Kira's room upstairs. Kira? There's something I've just been dying to show you, it's about the bridesmaid dresses, and you just have to come see them now. So why don't you show Stefan upstairs and then come back down here so we can go see to that thing that's really important? Okay? Good. See you in five minutes!"

"I think," Stefan said slowly, as he followed Kira upstairs. "That we have just been managed."

She laughed.

"That's Isa for you. She only got rid of Papa so that she could do the questioning herself."

"Ah, yes. Your father."

She tensed and paused at the top of the landing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching out to touch his cheek. "That was horribly rude of him. I didn't know he would be like that. Please don't be upset, I know he didn't mean it, and please don't worry. I love you, and it does not matter to me what he says. Nothing will change how I feel."

He struggled to breathe as her words hit him. Gods, he loved her.

"I love you as well dearling," he murmured. "And so does your father. It is why he was so upset, and I bear him no grudge."

She seemed relived, and she let out an audible sigh as she took his hand and continued down the dimly lit hallway. She paused at the second door on the right, offering him a hesitant smile.

"My room," she said.

She opened the door and led him inside.


	12. Chapter 12

Kira held her breath as Stefan stepped inside her room. She desperately hoped he'd like it. She hadn't redecorated since she'd been ten years old, having spent all of secondary school at a boarding school in Sicily, and many of her childhood memories had remained untouched since then. The wooden rocking horse Papa had given her for her eighth birthday still sat in the corner, next to the dollhouse she and Isa had spent hours playing with before they'd gone to Sicily. A shelf mounted on the wall held all of her old fairytale books, and right below it was the bed covered in the patchwork quilt Mama had made when she'd been a baby.

It was home.

"I am very glad you have not redecorated."

Stefan's voice made her turn. There was a soft warmth in his eyes, and he smiled at her.

"Memories are something to be kept, not thrown away with age. I am very glad that you chose to leave your room like this."

He walked around slowly, smiling every now and then. He touched the lone picture framed on her wall. It was a family portrait. She'd been no more than three, Isa barely five. Both of them had their hair pulled into low pigtails and were dressed in little white dresses with bows in their hair.

"Stefan?"

"I think," he said slowly. "That we will quite possibly have the most adorable children to ever exist."

She caught her breath. Whatever she'd been expecting him to say, it hadn't been that. In her experience, most men ran for the hills at the first mention of children, but Stefan…

"Kira? Are you crying?"

He sounded alarmed, hurrying across the room.

"No," she said, swiping traitorous tears from her eyes. "Of course not."

"Yes, you are. What happened? Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head, laughing.

"Stefan, you said something right."

She leaned up to kiss him, sliding her arms around her neck. He seemed surprised at first, but he recovered quickly, and one hand tangling in her hair, the other moving to rest on her hip. His tongue stroked seductively against hers, and she moaned softly. His kisses were like a drug, and she pressed closer, desperate for-

"Kira!"

She jerked back like she'd been electrocuted. Isa was banging on her room door. She hadn't even heard her coming up the stairs, but apparently Stefan had, because his lips were curved in a small, amused smile. She scowled at him.

"You should've told me!" she hissed as she went to open the door.

He smiled wider and mouthed "I love you."

She sighed. If he'd been trying to placate her, it had definitely worked.

"Kira!"

Isa pushed her way into the room, nearly bouncing in her excitement. Without warning, she threw her arms around her, making her stumble back a few steps.

"Oh, I missed you," she said. "It's too quiet with you gone."

_I doubt that_ Kira thought wryly.

"I miss you too, Isa," she said. "Maybe you and Giacamo should move to New Orleans once you're married."

Isa made a face.

"If I moved to America too, we would never hear the end of Papa's complaining. We would have to disconnect the phones to stop his calling."

Kira laughed and nodded. That was her Papa all right.

"Besides, it doesn't look like you're alone there anymore."

And there was the real reason that Isa hadn't waited for Kira to go downstairs. Why wait for her when she could corner both of them at the same time? Her sister was devious like that. Kira shook her head with amused affection and moved to slide an arm around Stefan's waist. He responded by draping an arm around her shoulders and nuzzling a kiss onto the top of her head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Isabella," he said softly.

With his free hand, he reached out and took her hand in his, brushing a light kiss on her knuckles. Isa flushed.

"Oh my goodness," she said, fanning herself with her hand. "I don't care what Papa says. You have to marry him immediately."

Kira shook her head in disbelief. It had taken Stefan all of five seconds to win Isa over. She had no doubt that her mother would succumb just as easily to his impossible charm. It had nothing to do with his looks - though she was sure that helped - or his wit with words - Stefan was hardly a talker. Instead, she rather thought it had to do with the way he held himself, the quiet strength he exuded. There was something about him that was indefinably_ male_, something intense and compelling that anyone with two x-chromosomes was helpless to resist.

"-can't believe it."

"Can't believe what?" Kira asked, turning back to the conversation.

"That you didn't_ tell_ me that you had a _boyfriend_."

She smiled sheepishly.

"It all happened very fast Isa."

"As in since the last time I called?"

"Err, a bit before that."

"I thought so."

Isa crossed her arms and scowled, and Kira did her best to put on an apologetic expression,. Whether she was truly mad or not, and Kira guessed not, her sister would never let her hear the end of this if she didn't fix things now. She hesitated, not sure what to say.

"It is my fault," Stefan suddenly said, saving her. "I asked Kira to keep our relationship quiet until I could meet your family. I was raised rather old-fashioned, and I thought it best to introduce myself in person the first time she told you of me."

Kira almost snorted. Old-fashioned. She'd heard they'd been like that in the 1700's.

"My deepest apologies," Stefan continued, his velvet voice ringing with nothing but sincerity.

"Oh," Isa said, flustered yet again. "It's no problem. I was just surprised, that's all."

Stefan nodded his head.

"Of course. I'm sorry for the inconvenience I must have caused with the wedding attendance. I know you did not expect Kira to bring a date."

"About that."

Isa suddenly looked horribly uncomfortable, and Kira leaned forward, concerned.

"Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's just that, err…"

"Isa?"

"We um, we weren't expecting you to go solo to the wedding."

"Isa, what are you talking about?"

Isa's next words came out in a jumbled rush that was barely understandable.

"Well I said that you didn't need a date because I was sure you wouldn't want one, but then Mama said you had to because it was a wedding, and then Papa got this idea in his head that if you met someone you'd move back here, and then I said that they were crazy, but then Mama decided that you most definitely needed a date, and then Papa went and talked to his friend Mauro, and now Benito Loretti thinks he's going to be your date."

Kira just about choked.

"Benito Loretti?" she half-shrieked. "Isa! We are talking about the same Benito, yes? The Benito that used to follow you around declaring his undying love for you? The Benito that wrote you a song about his eternal devotion and shouted it from a moving gondola? The Benito that declared that if you didn't marry him, he would kill himself? _That_ Benito?"

"Well," Isa said meekly. "He didn't say he would kill himself…"

"I am going to kill you! Benito Loretti! Of all the awful choices you could have let them make, it had to be _Benito Loretti_."

She collapsed weakly onto the edge of her bed, embarrassed by her outburst, but still too much in shock to care.

"I am going to have words with Papa," she said, scowling. "He cannot go around playing matchmaker to appease him whims."

"It's not like he had to try very hard," Isa offered. "You haven't been home, but Benito has been asking after you incessantly. He's become quite enamored with you of late."

"You are not helping, Isa. If you want to truly help, you will go with me to talk to Papa and tell him that this is quite possibly the worst idea he's ever had. Even better, tell Benito I have no need of his...escort."

"Err, that's the second thing Kira."

"And what exactly, pray tell, would that be?"

"You can um, tell Benito yourself. Mama invited him over to dinner tonight."

If looks could kill, Kira would have been arrested for murder by now. The decidedly amused look on Stefan's face only increased her ire, and she flopped face down on the pillows, mumbling all sorts of unladylike things.

"Shh _gatáki_," Stefan said through his laughs, smoothing a hand over her head. "I'm sure it will not be that bad."

She shot him a dirty look.

"You haven't met Benito."

* * *

Stefan had been right. It wasn't bad.

It was awful.

Benito was exactly the same as he had been seven years ago. She might've left Italy when they'd been seventeen, but he certainly hadn't progressed much in the way of maturity since then. Oh, he knew how to talk and walk so that Papa looked like he was on the verge of demanding he marry her then and there, but he was still the same boy who seemed to think tacky poetry was romantic and didn't understand that no meant no. The only thing that made her feel any better was that Stefan was just as miserable as her, more so if she had to judge.

His teasing amusement had vanished the second Benito had come through the door and planted a rather sound kiss on either of her cheeks. His jaw had clenched, his body tense, and he'd bared his teeth in a snarl. The glare he'd sent at the other man would've sent a smarter person running for the hills. Even now, sitting at the dinner table, Kira could practically see the murderous thoughts swirling around his head.

"So," Benito said conversationally, reaching to scoop up another piece of Mama's homemade lasagna. "What do you do Stefan?"

"I'm a translator," he answered, the lie slipping seamlessly from his lips.

"Really. English and Italian?"

"Greek and Romanian as well."

Benito let out a low whistle.

"Impressive. I'm a businessman myself - I just closed a big deal with an advertising firm."

"Congratulations."

Stefan's tone was nothing but polite, but Kira knew him well enough to hear the irritation layered underneath it. She squeezed his hand under the table.

"I was telling Mr. de Luca here," Benito continued. "That the key to success in business is knowing when to strike at the market."

Papa nodded, looking for all the world like a proud father-in-law. Kira fought the urge to gag.

"Benito certainly is a smart one," he said. "He's going to very successful. Don't you think so Kira?"

"Whatever you say Papa."

Kira kept her head down and pushed her food around her plate with the hand that wasn't holding Stefan's. She felt a stab of guilt. Mama had spent all day cooking for her, and she loved her mother dearly, but she'd lost her appetite. She was upset. Isa had welcomed Stefan with open arms, and Mama had seemed to like him a great deal as well, but Papa…

She frowned. Stefan meant the world to her, and she furious that Papa treated him as such - practically ignoring him in favor of Benito. Nothing he did could ever change the fact that she loved Stefan more than life itself, but that was no excuse for his behavior.

"Thank god," she muttered as soon as dinner was over.

Stefan's mood was so black she was surprised there wasn't a thundercloud hovering over him. His amber eyes were dark, but not with desire, and a small tic pulsed in his jaw. Even Isa had been silent for most of the meal, something that rarely, if ever, happened, and Mama had made enough nervous laughter to last a lifetime of awkward conversations. Only Benito and Papa seemed to be in jovial moods, both of them chatting with gusto about the stock market exchange as Papa walked Benito out.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to Stefan once Papa disappeared. "I didn't expect-. We can leave now if you want. I won't-"

"Kira!"

Papa's voice made her fist clench.

"Yes father?" she asked coolly, turning.

She saw him flinch, and she took perverse satisfaction in that. She never called him father, but she figured he deserved it after the way he'd been acting.

"We need to talk," he said. "Alone."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"You have subjected Stefan to enough tonight. I will not leave him alone so you can wax poetic about Benito or god know's who else. I-"

"_Gatáki_."

Stefan's voice stopped her mid-tirade. Gentle fingers touched her chin, tilting her face to meet his. He stroked a thumb over her cheek.

"Speak with your father _gatáki_," he said softly, in English. "I will wait for you upstairs."

"But Stefan-"

"Go. I will be fine by myself for a little while."

He lifted her hand to his mouth, brushed a kiss on her wrist, and left.

She counted to five and whirled to face her father.

"What is wrong with you?" she demanded. "How could you do that Papa?"

"Your mother had already invited him over-"

"That does not excuse your behavior! He is my fiancé! How could you treat him like that?"

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this upset. She was the quiet one, the soft-spoken one. Mama used to say that she was the only child on the planet who never threw temper-tantrums, but she threw one now. She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes and raised her voice. She would not let anyone disrespect Stefan like that, certainly not her own father.

"You better have a very good reason for what you did," she said. "Or I will leave."

"Kira!"

"No, Papa. Your behavior has been nothing short of horrible, and I will not stand for it. We will leave. Tonight, if we have to."

"Kira, you cannot-"

"I can damn well do what I please!"

She had never lost her temper like this. The last time she'd cursed, she'd been six, and Giancarlo Bianchi had tricked her into thinking "female dog" was synonymous with "fairy princess." She didn't even want to remember the kind of trouble that had gotten her into. But now, she knew full well what she was saying, and she felt nothing but righteous anger as the words left her mouth.

"I am twenty-four years old Papa, I am no longer a child! Stefan is my fiancé, and I love him. If you cannot accept the fact that I am with him, then we will leave, but I promise you now that if keep treating him like that, you will never see me again."

She was breathing hard and flushed by the time she finished, her hands in fists by her sides.

"Kira, I-, I don't know what to say."

She scowled in disgust.

"Then don't say anything at all."

She turned on her heel and left.


	13. Chapter 13

He was speechless. No one had ever defended him like that, and to hear Kira doing it now...he shuddered. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop on her conversation, but with the raised voices and his enhanced hearing, it'd been impossible _not_ to, and what he'd heard had left him unable to breathe. He'd been so long without someone to depend on that he'd forgotten what it felt like. His family was gone, Ekaterina had left him. Asides from Draven, he'd had nobody. But Kira had chosen him. He would never ask her to decide between him and his family, but hearing her defend him to her father…

He would never let her go. He couldn't. He loved her with a passion that went far deeper than the physical or the emotional. It was something he couldn't explain or define, something so intensely vital and elemental that it terrified him. When he'd buried Ekaterina, he'd sworn never to love again, never to open his heart to that kind of pain, but Kira had changed all of that, and she'd done it without trying. She was as much a part of him now as he himself was.

"Stefan?"

Kira's voice drifted softly from the doorway, and he turned in time to see her shutting the door behind herself. His eyes locked on the trembling of her hands, on the tears in his eyes, and his feet moved without him telling them to. Guilt instantly ate ate him. He'd done this.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry dearling."

"No!"

She pulled back with a horrified gasp.

"This isn't your fault," she said, staring at him hard. "Papa is being unreasonable, and it is no one's responsibility but his. I don't even know why I'm crying."

She tried to smile.

"I seem to be doing an awful lot of that lately, huh?"

He touched her cheek.

"It does not matter whose fault it is or why you are crying. It only matters that you are."

He picked her up before she could say anything, cradling her to his chest as he walked over to the bed. He set her down carefully and then moved to lie next to her. There were no words exchanged between them, but there didn't have to be. And though he wanted her always, desired her relentlessly, there was nothing heated about the way he held her now - no arousal or passion, just comfort and love everything he'd ever wanted.

"Stefan," she said after a while.

"Yes dearling?"

"I meant what I said before. If you want to leave, I don't mind. Papa has been absolutely beastly, and I didn't ask you to come with me so you could be insulted to death. We can always just come back for Isa's wedding."

Once again, he found it hard to believe as her words struck him.

"Stefan?"

"I would like to stay."

She turned her head to look at him, and it wasn't hard to decipher the incredulity he saw there.

"I planned to take you as my mate, and now I plan to take you as my wife. It is important to me that your family be a part of that. You love them, and I would not have it any other way."

"Oh my goodness."

"Kira?"

"I said I didn't know why I've started crying so much. Now I do. It's because you're the sweetest man to ever exist."

She buried her face against his chest, and he couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or not.

"Only for you," he settled on saying instead. "Only ever for you."

* * *

He woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and sweet rolls. If he wasn't mistaken, there were biscotti and hot chocolate as well, but what really held his attention was the scent of freesia and caramel. He sniffed the air and purred. He briefly considered flashing human, but decided against it. He was much too comfortable. In his leopard form, his senses were even more acute, and Kira's scent was absolutely intoxicating.

He lay still for a long while, dozing lazily. The early morning sun was a pleasant warmth as it flooded through the skylight, and it bathed Kira's skin in a hazy golden glow. He purred again. She was cuddled against his side, her head resting on the dip right below his shoulder. He lifted his head and twisted to nose her hair affectionately. She'd taken exceptionally well to the fact that he went to sleep human and woke up feline. In fact, she teased him about it, calling him her big, fluffy kitty cat. He figured if Draven ever heard her calling him that, he would be obligated to say something, but for now, he was happy to be whatever she wanted him to be. He let out the rasping cough that was a leopard's laugh.

"Mm, five more minutes."

Kira's sleepy mumble as she stirred awake only made him laugh harder. She blinked her eyes open, smiling when she saw him.

"Good morning kitty cat," she teased, running her hands through his fur.

He flashed human.

"Do you know," he said, cutting off her gasp with a hard, fast kiss. "That most men would be offended by that?"

"Are you? Offended?"

"I said most men. I am yours, and that makes all the difference."

Her smile was like sunshine, and of course he had to kiss her again. He was finally beginning to believe that this wouldn't end, that she was truly his. He was finally starting to hope that each touch wouldn't be the last, the he would wake up five, fifty years from now and still be able to hold her like this. It made the kiss all the sweeter, and she wasn't the only one who was breathless when he finally pulled away.

"Have I ever told you I love you?' he asked, knowing full well that he told her just about every chance he got.

She smiled and shook her head.

"Really?" he asked, feeling his lips curve as well.

"Maybe just once."

"Just once? Well that certainly won't do."

Balancing on one arm, he lifted her marked palm, the same hand that now bore his ring, to his lips.

"I love you," he whispered. "I am yours, Kira Serafina de Luca, and I will love you for the rest of my life."

"Oh, I love you," she breathed back.

He bent to kiss her again, this time pouring all the love and affection he wanted to lavish on her into it. It was sweet and soft and perfect, and in that moment, he thought that maybe his life was perfect too. And as long as Kira was in it, he thought maybe it could stay that way.

"I wish we could stay here forever," he murmured, "but your mother is debating whether or not to come up here to wake you up. I do not think it would endear me to her if she came in here to find us like this."

She laughed and wiggled out from under him, sliding out of bed. He was about to join her, but decided that lounging against the pillows to watch her delectably curved bottom as she padded into the adjoining bathroom was most certainly worth losing a few moments of time. And, when he heard the water come on in the shower, he decided it was better he remain where he was permanently. He truly did want to leave a good impression on her parents, her mother at least, and he had absolutely zero confidence in his ability to keep his hands to himself should he join her in the shower. So instead, he flashed himself a pair of dark blue jeans and a white button-down and stayed where he was.

"You cheated," were the first words she said when she came back into the room, a towel wrapped around herself.

She looked adorably indignant, and he laughed, and then he laughed again because he hardly recognized himself. Since when was the word adorable a part of his vocabulary? Certainly it hadn't been before he'd met her. And when was the last time he'd laughed so freely, so easily? _Most_ certainly not before he'd met her. They were small changes, these, but they made all the difference in the world to him, and he decided right then that no one had ever loved another person as much as he did her.

"I could help you cheat too," he offered. "For instance-"

He flashed her towel off her body, replacing it with a lacy black bra and panties.

"Stefan!" she yelped.

"Oh, very well."

A second later, she was wearing a little blue dress with tiny white flowers printed all over it. He didn't know why he liked the color blue on her so much, she looked gorgeous in everything, but he decided to indulge himself, especially when he left the dress unzipped. He crooked his finger at her, smiling.

She walked towards him without hesitation, offering him her back as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. He slowly slid the zipper into place, taking his time as he touched every inch of skin along her spine before he finished.

"Your turn," she smiled when he finished.

He lifted one arm, then the next for her, his eyes never leaving her face as she neatly rolled his sleeves to his elbows. There was something intimately domestic about this, and he savored every second of it. The only thing that would make this better, he thought, would be having a baby to take care of as well.

He wanted children. He wasn't the world's most paternal male, and the thought of being responsible for such an innocent life terrified him, but he wanted it anyway. The thought of Kira carrying his child aroused some sort of primal male satisfaction within him, and he knew that no matter how much the idea of being a father scared him, no matter how much he feared being anything like his own parents, he wanted everything with Kira.

A sudden thought occurred to him.

_Could_ he have children with her? He'd told her that should they mate, he would be the only person she could conceive with, and that was true. But he'd never stopped to think that maybe she wouldn't be able to conceive at all. Katagaria and humans didn't usually mate, and that was for a very good reason. No matter how well she took to his being half leopard, he doubted she would be equally accepting at the thought of birthday cubs. He tensed and made a mental note to ask Draven what he thought about it, or even Savitar. His pride be damned. Kira and her happiness came before everything else for him.

"You look awful serious all of a sudden," she said, her hands pausing on his forearms.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"Just thinking," he answered.

"About what?"

"You."

"Really?"

He smiled slowly and caught her hands in his. Leaning forward, he brushed the lightest of kisses against her lips, a feathery caress so brief it was barely there. But despite its brevity, it electrified every one of his senses, and he was reconsidering his decision to keep his hands to himself this morning when-

"Kira? Sweetheart? Are you awake yet?" Regina, Kira's mother, called from downstairs.

He groaned and pulled back.

"I guess we have to go down now," he said glumly.

She giggled and nodded.

"Come on," he sighed.

He dropped one of her hands, keeping the other one interlaced with his, and they left the room. As they went down the dark stairway, he noted that the two of them were the last ones up - Carlo, Regina, and Isabella were already chattering away downstairs, along with another voice he didn't recognize.

"Kira, Stefan!"

Of course, he thought, Isabella was the first to speak when they entered the kitchen. She turned from setting silverware onto the table to give them a sunny smile. Next to her stood a tall, thin man who wore glasses and a pristine white polo. Stefan looked from him to Kira and cocked his head.

"Oh! Stefan, this is Isa's fiancé Giacamo Caladrino. Giacamo, this is-"

"Stefan Kouris,_ her_ fiancé."

Isabella looked extremely satisfied with having been the one to deliver that particular piece of news, and her smug smile only grew when Giacamo's eyes went wide.

"Kira?" he asked. "You're engaged? Isa didn't tell me that."

"I just found out yesterday," Isabella huffed. "She didn't even tell _me_. Her _sister_."

"I'm sure she had a good reason," Giacamo mediated. "And it's nice to meet you Stefan."

He held out his hand, and Stefan met it with his own. Weres weren't really big on touching other people, but he knew it was a human custom. Besides, Giacamo would be related to him soon.

"Are you going to stay for the wedding?" Giacamo asked.

"Y-"

"Of course he is!" Isabella exclaimed. "Why else do you think he came?"

"Well Christmas is in two days-"

"Who cares about_ that_? We're getting _married_."

Giacamo gave her a placating "of course dear" and went back to setting plates on the table. Stefan hid his smile as he watched them. When Kira had told him that her sister was getting married, he'd expected someone who was as loud and vibrant as she was. Instead, Giacamo reminded him of Kira, quiet and eager to sooth rather that start any sort of conflict. Had he not been introduced to him as Isabella's intended, he would never have placed them together. A look at Kira told him she was thinking much the same thing, and she gave him a small, secret smile before moving to help her mother.

Breakfast was certainly much more pleasant than dinner had been. Stefan found himself smiling and even contributing to the conversation occasionally, though he was much more content to simply sit back and watch Kira interact with her family. Besides, Carlo was taking an active part in the discussion, and Stefan was eager to avoid conflict with the other man before he had a chance to talk to him alone, something he fully intended to do as soon as possible. He hadn't spoken last night with the intention of just calming Kira's nerves, he'd meant what he said. She loved her family and that was enough of a reason for him to do whatever it took to ensure that they would be okay with his marrying her.

And so he waited patiently. He said little for the rest of the morning, even when Regina insisted he attend mass with them. He went partly to make her happy, partly because he was curious. It'd always fascinated him that humans believed in things they could not see or prove. Those of his world _knew_ their gods existed, and if they were unfortunate enough, had met them as well.

"Sorry," Kira whispered to him when they were exiting the cathedral. "You didn't have to come."

"No, it was interesting," he said, squeezing her hand.

She smiled.

The remainder of the morning and much of the afternoon passed in the same fashion. Kira's family was a whirlwind of activity and life, something he found incredibly different and refreshing from his usually solitary ways. Leopards were not social creatures, but he found that he didn't mind spending time with the de Lucas. The only thing that bothered him was the way Carlo looked at him as if he were the devil incarnate. Kira's father watched him with equal parts disdain and dislike, a combination that wasn't exactly reassuring, and Stefan knew he wasn't going to be able to put off talking to him for as long as he'd thought. And so, that night, while Giacamo went home to take care of some work, and Kira and Isabella were in the kitchen helping their mother, he knocked quietly on the door to Carlo's office.

"Come in. I was just thinking Kira, if you wanted to-"

Carlo paused mid-sentence as he looked up from his desk to see not his daughter, but her much-hated fiancé standing in the doorway. His grey eyes narrowed, and he set down the paper he'd been holding slowly. Wordlessly, he gestured to the chair across from him.

"Mr. de Luca," Stefan said when he was seated. "I love your daughter, and I intend to marry her with or without your approval."

He usually wasn't this direct, but Carlo struck him as the type of man to appreciate bluntness, and he was right. The tiniest hint of respect popped into the other man's eyes. His voice when he replied though, was nothing but icy.

"Well I don't approve."

"May I inquire as to why?"

"If you know anything about my daughter, you know that she's different. Not only is she quiet and shy, but she is naïve and trusting as well. She gives her heart easily to others. Therefore, she is easily hurt."

Carlo's eyes narrowed until they were little more than slits.

"And hurt is the one thing I will never allow her to be. I know nothing about you Stefan. Not who you are or where you come from or what you've done. Only that you showed up here unannounced saying that you were going to marry my daughter. _That_ is why I don't approve."

They lapsed into silence after that. Carlo steepled his fingers together with his elbows on his desk, his mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. He seemed to have said what he'd intended to say, and didn't appear to have any inclination towards continuing the conversation. Stefan, too, found the he wasn't yet ready to break the silence, but only because he didn't know how to.

Carlo was right.

Kira _was_ quiet and shy and naïve and trusting, but those were the things he loved best about her. They were what made her_ her_. They were what had let her accept him so easily, let her trust him when he hadn't given her any reason to. And the fact that she loved freely and passionately was something that he was grateful for every second of every day. He frowned slightly as he realized Carlo believed he was taking advantage of that. Kira was his heart, his soul, his everything, and he'd never allow her to be hurt. To suggest otherwise was insulting and just the tiniest bit infuriating. But Carlo was her father, and he knew he had to make exceptions for that.

"I understand your concerns," he said quietly. "But know that when I say I love your daughter, I mean it. She is...there are not words to describe what she is to me, but I swear to you that my intentions towards her are nothing less than making her happy for every day for the rest of her life."

He had never before bared his feelings like that to anyone besides Kira, but he did it now. He knew full well that when Kira gave him a daughter, he would dote on her and spoil her and love her past the bounds of sanity. Carlo deserved no less from him than he himself would expect from anyone who proposed to take his own daughter away from him. And so he forced away the gnawing discomfort that speaking so openly to anyone who wasn't Draven or his mate caused, and he met Carlo's gaze with his own.

"Your opinion matters to her. She wants your acceptance. So I am asking you now to trust me to care for her as you have, trust me to love her like she deserves. She means everything to me, and I will never treat her as less."

Carlo seemed torn for a moment, emotions warring across his face. His jaw clenched, and Stefan could hear the increase in his breathing. But just as the silence reached unbearable proportions, and Stefan was sure that his attempt to win him over had failed, Carlo closed his eyes.

And gave the smallest of nods.


	14. Chapter 14

"Too early," Kira mumbled.

She swatted lazily at the paw that had brushed her nose. Seconds later, she felt Stefan flash human, the paw becoming a hand that traced a gentle caress down her cheek.

"I have observed," he started, one part amused, one part thoughtful, "that you are an exceptionally bad early-morning riser. How you manage to be a teacher and arrive at school at seven every morning escapes me."

She cracked one eye open to give him a dirty look before burrowing deeper under the covers. His warm, raspy laugh filled the air around them as he pulled her back against his chest. She let out an irritated grumble, but secretly, she was ecstatic. She'd never seen Stefan as happy as he was now. Gone were the shadows that had plagued his eyes when she'd met him, gone was the rigid secrecy he'd held himself with. With her, at least, he seemed to have let go of whatever had tortured him for so long, and she couldn't help but be pleased that she'd been at least part of the reason for that.

"Especially," he continued, oblivious to her inner thoughts, "considering that the rest of your family has been up for at least an hour. You, I have decided, are an anomaly."

He seemed incredibly amused with the irritated growl she gave him.

"Careful _gatáki_," he teased. "Your temper is showing."

"I'll show you temper," she muttered, rolling over to face him. "And what does that mean anyway? You always said you'd tell me eventually."

"_Gatáki_?"

He cocked his head to the side.

"It means kitten."

She paused as that sunk in. He called her kitten. She didn't know whether to melt in his arms or give him a solid thwack on the head.

"I am not a cat," she finally said, wrinkling her nose.

He laughed.

"Ah, your human reasoning fascinates me."

And then, before she could protest, his lips were on hers, warm, soft, demanding. Without hesitation, she slid her arms around his neck and pressed closer. He had been very careful about keeping his hands to himself while they'd been here, and she missed his affectionate touches. But there was nothing restrained or careful about this. With one deft move, he'd rolled her under himself, his forearms braced on either side of her head.

His lips trailed down her jaw to her throat, where he busied himself with nibbling on her pulse. She squirmed underneath him, and he chuckled. Unhurried by her impatience, he took his time as he worked his way down to the edge of the oversized t-shirt she was wearing as pajamas. He traced her collarbone with his tongue, his teeth grazing her skin lightly, before drifting farther down.

"Stefan!" she gasped.

His mouth had surrounded her nipple, suckling her through the cloth. Her hips jerked up to meet his as her hands tangled in his golden waves, and she moaned when he scraped her lightly with his teeth. Switching his weight to balance on one arm, his other hand slid up her leg. She held her breath as he played with the edge of her panties, and cried out when he pushed them aside and slid two fingers deep inside of her.

"Shh," he whispered seductively. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear you, would we?"

"Stefan," she moaned.

He smiled wickedly, his fingers never stopping their lazy motions as they thrust in and out of her.

"Who knew someone so sweet could be so wicked?" he purred, nuzzling the underside of her jaw with his lips.

"Tease," she panted, writhing as he crooked his fingers and touched a place inside of her that made her breath catch and her body tremble.

"Not a tease," he countered. "I fully intend to see this through."

His lips fell on hers again. They were soft, gentle, his kiss almost chaste. Completely opposite of what his hand was doing. And somehow, that was impossibly more erotic than anything inflamed and impassioned could have been, and she cried out in climax moments later. He captured her soft scream with his mouth, growling as she convulsed around his fingers. Only when she was completely still beneath him did he pull out of her.

She let out a small sound of protest as he rolled off of her, missing his warmth instantly. But moments later, he pulled her against his side, tucking her close, and her groan turned into a sigh of contentment. She snuggled closer, breathing in the sweet, spicy scent that was uniquely him, when her leg brushed over his stomach and she realized that he was still hard.

"Stefan," she said, sitting up.

"Hmm?"

He opened his eyes to look at her.

"You're still, you didn't-"

She blushed and bit her lip, not quite sure how to phrase it. But he understood anyway, and he shocked her when he merely shrugged.

"Stefan!" she protested. "You can't possibly be...comfortable."

His lips twitched.

"If you would lie down again and perhaps press a bit closer, I can assure you I will be very comfortable."

"Stefan, you-"

"Kira."

He sat up, taking her hands in his.

"Your mother is about to send Isabella to wake us, your father has only recently decided that I am no longer the spawn of the devil, and I have no wish to give them any reason not to like me. Do not worry dearling, I will be fine."

He smiled and dropped a light kiss on her nose.

"Now go. I think it wise for us to change. I don't think it will endear us to anyone, should they realize what we've been doing."

He gave her a gentle nudge in the general direction of the bathroom.

"This seems rather...redundant," she said much later, when he passed her on his way to take a shower, after waiting for her to finish her own. "Wouldn't it have been faster if we'd...shared?"

In response, he raked a heated gaze over her towel-wrapped body.

"No," he said promptly. "It wouldn't have been."

And then, after giving her a smile that could have made a nun blush, he disappeared into the bathroom.

She smiled now as she ran a brush through her hair, listening to the sound of him shutting off the water. After a moment, she heard him open the door, and she turned in time to see him reentering the room, wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and absolutely nothing else. She licked her lips unconsciously. The man's hipbones really were too sexy for words, and the muscled stomach and chest above them were...distracting to say the least.

"You're staring," he said amusedly as he toweled off his hair.

"I-, am brushing my hair."

She turned back the the full-length mirror mounted on the wall facing her bed, determined to pretend both him and his hipbones didn't exist. Her efforts, however, promptly went flying out the window when he crossed the room and plucked the brush out of her hand.

"Stefan-"

"Have I ever told you I adore your hair?" he asked as he started running the brush gently through the tangled strands.

"N- no."

"I adore your hair."

His hands worked deftly through the still-damp snarls, and he hummed softly. She was shocked that he could be so gentle, much more so than she was when she did it herself, and that he was doing this at all. By the time he was done and her hair hung long and smooth down her back, she was sure that he was the most perfect man to ever exist. As soon as he laid the brush down, she threw herself into his arms.

"I think," he said several breathless moments later, "that I should brush your hair more often."

"Mm," she said distractedly, kissing him again.

It was a long time after that that he set her down again. And, she suspected, ninety-nine percent of the reason for that was Isa, who was now banging impatiently on her door.

"Kira! Stefan!" she shouted from the hallway. "Mama wants you downstairs. It's _Christmas_. You can't possibly be sleeping on _Christmas_."

"We'll be right down!" Kira called back.

She waited until she heard Isa retreat back down the steps before she turned to face Stefan. He was picking through the suitcase that lay open on her desk, searching for a shirt.

"You should wear a Christmas sweater," she said, mostly just to see what his reaction would be.

He gave her a look that could have frozen lava.

"I do not own anything of the sort," he said dryly. "And you're the one who told me that it is cheating to flash myself whatever I needed. Hence, the digging through the suitcase."

She knew he wasn't really mad, and she smiled as he pulled on a black, long-sleeved v-necked sweater that hugged his torso lovingly. She tilted her head to the side.

"There is no way you're going outside," she finally decided.

"What?"

"I'd be beating the woman off with a stick. No siree, you are staying in the house."

A slow smile spread over his face.

"You are jealous," he said smugly.

"Am not-"

"And I am extremely pleased."

He flashed across the room to give her a quick, hard kiss.

"Your jealousy is oddly satisfying," he said when he pulled back. "But never fear dearling, you know I have eyes only for you."

He was trying hard not to laugh, and grumbling all sorts of things under her breath, she stomped out of the room. She didn't have to see his face to know he was smiling. He followed her down the stairs.

"Good morning Mama," she said as soon as she entered the kitchen. "Merry Christmas."

Her mother pulled her into a tight hug and dropped an affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"Merry Christmas," she answered. "And to you as well Stefan."

Stefan gave her one of his heart-stopping smiles and repeated the greeting before turning to do the same for Isa and Papa, the latter of whom, Kira was pleased to note, seemed to have gotten over his aversion to Stefan.

"Where's Giacamo?" she asked as she poured herself and Stefan coffee from the pot by the stove.

"He's coming soon. I think he had to take care of something at work."

Kira nodded absently and turned to hand Stefan his mug. He kissed her cheek in thanks before going to sit at the table, across from Papa.

Breakfast passed in a blur, full of laughter and teasing and excitement. Christmas had always been her favorite holiday. Even Stefan, as he sat next to her and spoke quietly to Giacamo, seemed happy and relaxed. So much so that when Isa declared that she and Kira were going shopping for the afternoon, he just smiled and said he had a few things he needed to take care of as well. And so, it was only thirty or so minutes later that Kira found herself walking through the marketplace, arm-in-arm with Isa, with Stefan and Giacamo nowhere in sight.

"I hope nothing happens," she said nervously.

"Oh, don't worry," Isa said, waving her hand. "Papa promised to play nice, and didn't Stefan say he was going to step out of the house anyway? Though where he intends to go, I don't know. He should have taken Giacamo with him. He doesn't know his way around the city, and he is likely to be lost."

Kira thought it wise not to mention that Stefan could transport himself anywhere he wanted with no more than a thought.

"He'll be fine," was all she said.

They continued walking down the street, Isa keeping up a steady stream of chatter the entire time. By the time they turned the corner onto the main plaza, Kira had discovered that Giacamo's baby cousin was "absolutely darling" in her flower-girl outfit, that Mama had argued with the caterer to get a ten percent discount on the wedding dinner, and that Benito Loretti was going to so disappointed when he missed it all.

"I can't imagine Papa ever telling Benito that he was no longer welcome," Kira said.

"Oh, he didn't. But I might have dropped a subtle hint to him myself that if he showed up, I would tell everybody that he did _not_ break his arm while jet-skiing when we were ten."

"Didn't he fall of the railing when he tried to sneak onto your balcony to read you that poem he wrote?"

Isa did nothing but grin as she opened the door to a small boutique. As Kira looked around, she saw that they were in a men's store. One that had ties and cufflinks and watches and all other sorts of things that Isa most certainly didn't need.

"Isa, why are we here? Do you need to get something for Giacamo?"

Isa snorted.

"I finished my Christmas shopping for him weeks ago. Him and Mama and Papa and you."

"So…"

"So, I wasn't informed that I had to buy presents for anyone else until three days ago. I can't exactly not give Stefan anything, it'd be rude. Now, tell me what he likes. Maybe a tie?"

Kira smiled to herself. She didn't have to look around the store to know that nothing in here would be to Stefan's liking. He didn't have a care for these types of things, didn't put any stock in material belongings. And she was willing to bet a hefty sum that he had never worn a tie in his life.

"He-"

"Oh, I know. I bought Giacamo some cufflinks. Maybe I'll get Stefan a pair too. They can match. Won't that be cute?"

Kira just shook her head and smiled.

* * *

"It's perfect sweetheart, thank you."

Giacamo leaned over to kiss Isa lightly, carefully setting the silver cufflinks she'd gotten him down on the coffee table. Wrapping and tissue paper were everywhere, ribbons littering the floor and glitter dusting the couch. Flames crackled in the fireplace, and soft strains of music floated through the air. At Kira's insistence however, Mama had left her scented candles in their cabinets. She'd made up some ridiculous story about having a sinus infection that the candles would irritate, but in truth she'd done it for Stefan. His highly developed sense of smell meant he was sensitive to artificial scents, and she'd worried that they would bother him.

"Kira, your turn!"

"What?"

She looked up to see Isa holding a wrapped present out to her. She smiled as she took it, setting it on her lap as she carefully undid the ribbon. Next to her, Stefan slid an arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Would you hurry up?" Isa demanded impatiently. "You don't have to save the wrapping."

"I know, but I want to. I- _Isa_."

Cheeks flaming, Kira slammed the lid back down on the box she'd just opened.

"Like it?" Isa grinned. "I ordered it online. You have very interesting stores in America."

"I-, I-," she spluttered.

"It's very nice," Stefan said.

The flat, pink rectangle box had VICTORIA'S SECRET emblazoned on the top in silver letters, which should have been warning enough for her. But inside… She was suddenly very glad that she was sitting facing everyone else, so they hadn't seen what the box contained. A black silk and lace nightie that was so short she was sure that it could have doubled as a camisole, and a matching pair of very tiny panties. Slit in strategic places and laced together with ribbons, the slip was something she would have avoided looking at while in the store, let alone buying.

"How-, you-"

Intelligible speech seemed to have left her. Isa had given her this in front of her _parents_. In front of _Stefan_. Stefan, who currently had a very male smile on his face. Apparently, lingerie was enough to warrant an uncharacteristic display of emotion in front of her family, because the smile was getting more smug by the second.

"_I_ certainly like it," he whispered in her ear.

She threw him a dirty look before setting the box aside.

"Thank you, Isa," she said. "It's very...thoughtful."

After that came a mahogany boars hair brush and matching comb from Giacamo, a hand-knit sweater from Mama, and a one-way plane ticket to Italy from Papa. In turn, she gave Isa a set of her favorite American romance movies, Giacamo a new tie and tie-clip, and Mama and Papa a pair of matching hand-painted mugs.

"He is_ so_ handsome," Isa sighed, staring longingly at the male movie star on the front of one of the DVD covers.

"I'm right here sweetheart," Giacamo said.

Isa ignored him and turned to Stefan.

"Didn't you get Kira anything?"

"Isa!"

Kira threw her sister a horrified look. That was _not_ polite. But Stefan merely smiled and nodded, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a small white box.

"I had planned to give this to you later, but I suppose there is no harm in doing it here," he said to her, while giving Isa an amused glance.

Unlike Isa and Mama's wrapping, there was nothing glittery or flashy or bright about Stefan's gift. Just an elegant silver ribbon with a small card that said _Kira_. Carefully, she undid the bow and lifted the lid and-

"Oh," she gasped.

Inside, nestled on a bed of white satin, was a diamond-inlaid hair comb. The silver teeth shone in the firelight, and above them sparkled a constellation of diamonds in a frame of flowers and leaves. For a moment, she couldn't breathe.

"Oh," she repeated.

"What is it? Let me see- oh my _goodness_."

Isa's eyes went wide. Impatient, she'd jumped up from her seat and moved to peek over Kira's shoulder. At the sight of the comb, her jaw dropped.

"What is it?" Mama demanded.

Even Papa looked curious. Wordlessly, Kira turned the box to face them, barely noticing their exclamations. Instead, all she saw was Stefan and the warm glow in his eyes and the slight curve of his lips and the husky timber of his voice when he asked "do you like it _gatáki_?"

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "Of course I do."

Her eyes felt suspiciously teary when she turned to give him a hug, and she buried her face against his neck.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He smiled and pulled her closer.


	15. Chapter 15

It was, Stefan thought, quite the most satisfying evening he'd had since 1702.

He truly liked Kira's family, especially Giacamo, and a day filled with laughter and gifts was as foreign to him as it was pleasant. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so carefree. And as for Kira… Just the thought of her surprise and delight and the smile that had lit up her face made his lips curve. There was little he enjoyed more than making her happy, and the memory of her joy would be something he'd hold close forever.

"Stefan?"

"Hmm?"

He looked up to see her standing at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped behind her back.

"What is wrong?" he asked, noting the nervous expression on her face.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "I just-, I wanted to give this to you when we were alone."

She drew her hands from behind her back to show him the carefully wrapped package she held in them. She still looked nervous, so he patted the space in front of him on the bed and gestured for her to sit. He waited until she was safely cradled against him, her back to his chest, before taking the gift from her hands.

"I don't know if you'll like it," she said, biting her lip. "It's just, I was thinking of what to get you, and I thought-"

"Shh _gatáki_," he soothed. "It is from you, and that is enough."

Resting his chin on her shoulder so he could see, he gently undid the wrapping and pulled away the white tissue paper. When he saw what lay beneath it, he froze.

A picture frame.

Old and antique looking, the silver-gilt frame weighed heavy in his hand, but he doubted that that had as much to do with the frame itself, than it did the meaning behind it. And, nestled behind the glass, lay a black-and-white photo of himself and Kira. When she'd taken it, he had no idea. He had yet to get over his aversion to having his picture taken, lasting memories being something he was only just accustoming himself to, and he had absolutely no recollection of her snapping a photo.

"I asked Draven to help," she said, as if reading his thoughts. "He took the picture for me because I wasn't sure what you'd say if-. You're not mad, are you?"

Her voice wavered.

"I know you don't have any pictures, and I know it has to do with your past-"

He stiffened in shock.

"I didn't ask Draven that," she said quickly. "I would never pry into something you didn't want me to. But it wasn't hard to guess. At first I thought that it had something to do with you being a Were-hunter, but I didn't think that made any sense, so I guessed it had something to do with your past. But you seemed to be so...happy these days that I thought maybe you wouldn't mind a picture-"

He barely heard the rest of what she said. She'd guessed. Not the specifics, but enough to know why he avoided pictures like the plague. They were reminders, tangible memories. And for as long as he could remember, memory had been the one thing he'd have given anything to escape, but never could. Memories were things to be forgotten, not kept.

But now… His grip tightened on the frame. This memory, this photo, this _woman_, these he would keep. These he would keep and guard and cherish. That she was the reason he was able to do that meant everything to him, and it was with a complete absence of conscious thought that he spun her in his arms and crushed her lips to his.

He kissed her frantically, desperately, starved to feel, to taste. He felt her shock, but it quickly faded to sweet acceptance, and he groaned helplessly as he pulled her closer. She alone made him feel this way, made him forget, made him love. It was an emotion he hadn't known since he'd been a child, and to feel it now made him lightheaded with pleasure.

"Kira," he breathed against her lips.

He felt her hesitate.

"You...like it?" she asked.

"Oh dearling, I _adore_ it."

He kissed her again, savoring the intoxicating taste of her lips, the warm satin of her skin as he stroked her cheek.

"Come with me," he murmured long moments later.

"What? Where?"

"Home. I want to put this on my mantle."

Her eyes shone, and she nodded. Seconds later, they were standing in his living room, the picture frame clasped in his left hand. Carefully, he set it on the mantle, making certain it was perfectly centered and perfectly straight. When he was done, he stepped back.

"It's perfect," she breathed.

"_You_ are perfect."

And of course he had to kiss her again.

He'd intended for it to be brief, one kiss before he took them back to Italy, but as soon as his lips touched hers, all he could think about was how much he wanted more. How much he didn't want to stop. The taste of her was sweeter than ambrosia, and he kissed her like a man starved.

One hand slid into her hair, holding her captive against his lips as the other locked around her waist. His mouth slanted over hers, his tongue exploring, demanding. Already, he could feel his erection straining against his jeans, his desire pounding relentless through his veins. It took no more than a brush of her fingers or the merest hint of her scent to arouse him, but now, with her in his arms, her scent intoxicating his senses, and her mouth sweet and pliant against his, it was all he could do to keep his leopard under control. Even still, purrs and growls escaped his throat, and he couldn't stop himself from rubbing his body against hers, marking her, claiming her with his scent.

She sighed against his lips, her arms winding around his neck as she pressed closer. The feel of her breasts pressing against his chest made him growl, but he wanted more. He wanted her skin against his. He reached for the hem of his sweater, tearing it off and tossing it aside with absolutely no concern for where it landed. As soon as the material left his body, he felt her hands on his chest. She feathered caresses over his skin, tracing every dip and curve of his stomach until his muscles were clenching under her fingers. Eager to do the same, he touched the touched the neckline of her blouse, only to have her still his hands with her own.

"I want to do it," she whispered, blushing.

He about spontaneously combusted.

Gritting his teeth against his arousal, he dropped his arms and stepped back, his breathing labored as he took in the sight of her. Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen from his kisses, and her cheeks flushed. Slowly, she reached for the first button.

He watched, enraptured as she undid it, his eyes never leaving the movement of her fingers as she finished and moved to the second one. With each button that came undone, just the tiniest bit more of her skin was revealed, and he felt his control slipping further and further the lower she went. It was the worst sort of erotic torture to stand there and watch her baring herself to him, and by the time she was finished, his breath was coming in harsh pants. When she let the blouse slide from her shoulders onto the floor, he was sure his breathing stopped altogether.

The sight of her standing in front of him wearing nothing but her jeans and a pale pink bra did things to him that should have been illegal. She rarely chose to wear jeans, preferring skirts and dresses, but when she did...dear gods. The way the denim hugged her curves made his mouth go dry and his cock throb with painful awareness.

"Was I-"

She faltered, but he knew what she meant. He almost shook his head. If she was asking him if what she was doing was okay, then she honestly had no idea what she did to him, the power she held over him. Again, her guileless mix of innocence and sensuality made for a seduction so complete, he was practically shaking with the force of his arousal.

"Come here," he ordered hoarsely.

He didn't trust his voice to tell her what he was feeling, so he would show her instead.

He pulled her close, fusing every inch of her body with his. Soft curves pressed deliciously against him, and he shuddered at the feel of her warm and responsive in his embrace. If he'd had it his way, she'd never leave the circle of his arms, and he vowed that now at least, she wouldn't leave them until morning. His prior intentions notwithstanding, he was way too far gone to even consider stopping now.

He trailed kisses down her jaw to her throat, growling at the taste of her skin as he nipped at the hollow of her throat before soothing the sting with his tongue. Pressing butterfly kisses to her neck, her shoulder, he worked his way to the strap of her bra. Briefly, he considered snapping it with his teeth, but he really was fond of the bra itself, at least the way it cupped her breasts, so he decided against it. Instead, he used his fingers to slide the strap down her arm, slowly, teasingly.

"Stefan," she protested.

He smiled, but he obliged her, unclasping her bra and letting it drop to the floor. The sight of her bared breasts made his already aching arousal harden further, and he wasted no time capturing one of her nipples with his mouth. He nipped and licked and teased, relishing the sounds that she made as he worked her with his tongue and teeth. He wanted more though. He wanted her in his bed, fully bared to him. Without warning, he picked her up.

He could easily have flashed them to his bedroom, but the feel of her legs wrapped around his waist, the hot core of her cradling his erection...it was definitely worth the extra time it took to get there. As he moved, she pressed tighter against him, his movement causing her to rub against him in a full-body caress that made it hard to think of much else besides how much he wanted to be inside of her. When they finally reached his bed, he was loath to allow any separation between them, but the desire to feel her bare skin against his proved too tempting to ignore.

Again, he could have used magic to undress them, and it would have no doubt been faster, but there was something intensely erotic about inching her jeans down her shapely legs, slowly baring more of her smooth, soft skin to his eyes. Her panties, the same pale pink as her bra, disappeared in quite the same fashion, and he growled in satisfaction at the sight of her naked beneath him. Leaning down, he captured her lips, the sweetness of her mouth something he was quickly becoming addicted to. She moaned in protest when he pulled away.

"Shh," he crooned.

Dropping kisses as he went, taking time to suckle each of her breasts, he worked his way down her body. He paused at the inside of her thigh.

"Stefan, what are you-"

Her sentence ended in a strangled cry as he took her into his mouth. He took his time tasting her, the sounds that she made only encouraging him further. He teased her with his lips and tongue, relishing the way she writhed against him. Fine tremors wracked her body, and he knew she was close. Desperate to push her over the edge, he slid two fingers deep inside of her while his tongue caressed her clit.

She cried out as she came, arching against him as her release swept over her. Not until she lay limp and panting beneath him did he move, sliding back to her lips so he could claim her mouth with his, pouring every bit of passion and desire he was feeling into that one single kiss.

"Wait," she gasped.

He pulled back, startled.

"What is it?" he asked, stroking her hair back from her face.

"I-, I want to finish the bond. I know we have almost a week left, but I don't want to wait."

"Kira are you sure-"

She smiled so sweetly he forgot to breathe.

"I love you Stefan, and I want to make you mine."

And then there were no more words, because he had to be kissing her, had to be touching her. He needed her more than he needed to breathe. His jeans vanished with a thought, and he groaned when he felt her bare body press against his.

"Kira," he whispered. "Kira."

Her name was all he could manage, all he wanted to manage. At that moment, she was every hope, dream, and desire he'd ever had wrapped up in the taste and smell and feel of passion and woman. His cock throbbed hard and heavy between his legs, and he ached to be inside of her, to claim her in the basest way possible and mark her as his. To seal the bond and tie her to him forever.

But the mating ritual had to be done by the female's will alone, and so he forced himself to retain his control. Still kissing her, he rolled them over so she was on top of him, straddling his hips.

"It's up to you know _gatáki_," he said raggedly.

He'd explained the ritual to her long ago, and-

And that was where his train of thought ended. Because at that moment, as she sat up to take him into her body, his mind emptied of everything except the feel of her wet heat slowly sheathing his cock. His back arched and it took every bit of his self-control to keep himself from grabbing her hips and pulling her down to meet him fully.

"Kira," he groaned.

Smiling, she reached to lace both hands through his. He hissed at the feel of her marked palm meeting his, a sharp jolt of awareness running up his spine, and let out a strangled curse when she started moving. The feel of her riding him was enough to drive him crazy, but it was sight of her, her hair tumbling in a silken wave around her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, her teeth worrying her lower lip as she rose and fell in a steady rhythm above him, that made it nearly impossible to hold back his orgasm.

"I accept you as you are, and I will always hold you close to my heart. I will walk beside you forever."

Her voice was low and soft as she spoke, but it never wavered once, and the quiet intensity in it made his heart clench. His own voice as he answered her was thick with emotion, and he struggled to keep it steady.

"I accept you as you are, and I will always hold you close to my heart," he whispered. "I will walk beside you forever."

Instantly, he felt white-hot pain engulf his body, his back arching on a gasp as the blinding agony of the _thirio_ cut through him. He felt his fangs lengthen, and he fought desperately against the nearly overwhelming urge to bite into the soft skin of her throat.

"Stefan?" she asked frantically.

"It's just," he panted. "the _thirio_. It'll pass. In a couple minutes."

He groaned as another wave of agony washed over him - the urge, the need to sink his teeth into her neck and taste her blood consuming him as nothing else ever had before. He closed his eyes against the pain, but even as he did, he felt her release their unmarked palms, felt her fingers brush his mouth. His lips parted, and he heard her soft gasp as she saw his fangs. He jerked convulsively as she touched one of them in a feather-light caress.

"When I said I wanted to make you mine," she said softly. "I meant forever. You said I get to choose whether this is just a claiming or a true bonding, and I choose the second one."

He nearly lost it right then, but somehow, somewhere, he found the strength to stay still.

"You don't. Understand," he said raggedly.

"I do," she contradicted. "And that's why I want you."

And then he really did lose it, a strangled cry leaving his mouth as he abandoned restraint and gave himself over to his instincts. Whether he sat up or she leaned down, he didn't know. All he understood was the lightning hot pleasure, even more acutely intense than the pain of the_ thirio_, that enveloped him as soon as his fangs pierced her skin. Her blood, rich and heady, washed over his tongue in a hot rush of ecstasy that made him orgasm immediately. And when he felt the sting of her own teeth against his throat, he came again.

Finally, when the last tremors of his release left him, when he could finally breathe again, he detached his teeth from her neck. He licked the puncture marks carefully, removing any traces of blood and sending a bit of magic into them so they would heal faster. The entire time, he felt a rather large and stupid looking grin on his face, but he couldn't help it. Kira was his, now and forever, and he'd never been happier in his life.

"Ah _gatáki_," he sighed.

She murmured sleepily, and he smiled, tucking her gently against his side. He brushed a kiss over her temple.

"I love you," he whispered tenderly. "More than anything I love you."

He fell asleep cradling his mate in his arms.


	16. Chapter 16

"What's _wrong_ with you? You've been smiling all creepy-like all morning. It's starting to freak me out."

Kira just shook her head and smiled some more.

She and Stefan had returned to Italy early that morning, arriving before dawn with no one being the wiser. To everyone else, it'd been another perfectly normal night, but to them, to her…

It had been everything.

The knowledge that Stefan was now hers, permanently, forever, had plastered a hugely smug grin on her face that hadn't dimmed the slightest bit all morning. Stefan was off with Giacamo, and Isa and Mama had been dragging her around town for hours, but the grin stayed. Stefan was hers, and she was quite certain she'd never been happier in her life.

"Kira?" Isa called. "Oh my goodness Mama, she's gone completely loony."

"I am not loony," Kira said breezily, tuning back into the present. "Merely a tiny bit distracted."

"Well then be un-distracted, because I need you to try this on."

Only then did Kira realize that they'd somehow wandered from the baker's to the dress shop. It was a tiny, dated boutique, one with hardly enough room for the three of them to squeeze in next to the army of mannequins near the door. And when the modiste brought out a rolling rack with the bridesmaid dresses on it, the cramped conditions only got worse. Isa, however, hardly seemed to notice as she exclaimed excitedly over the gowns.

"This one is yours," she said, pulling off the one at the very end. "Isn't it gorgeous?"

All Kira could do was stare.

The dress, if there was enough material present to call it a dress, was a short, floaty little confection made of the red to end all reds. The kind of red that French models painted their lips or buff car-junkies painted their Mustangs. Not cherry or coral or rose or ruby, but truly, truly red. And the length of it… She blushed just looking at it. Strapless and short, the sweetheart neckline was much too low for comfort, and the formfitting sheath would just reach mid-thigh.

"It's, it's-," she stammered, floundering for the right word.

"Adorable, isn't it?"

Kira nodded weakly. It wasn't that the dress was scandalous or inappropriate; Isa had too much taste for that. But even as that thought crossed her mind, she realized that that was the problem. It was too Isa. Too flashy, too attention-grabbing, too..._much_. But, no matter what she thought, this was Isa's wedding. If the dress had been two times shorter and ten times tighter, she still would have worn it to make her happy.

"It's very pretty," she finally said honestly.

"Mama didn't approve-"

"Do not drag me into this," Mama said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's your Papa who threw a hissy fit."

Isa grinned wickedly.

"You should have seen his face when I picked these out."

Kira could only imagine. Shaking her head with a smile, she took the dress from Isa's outstretched hand and went to the dressing room at the back of the store. She wiggled into the small sheath of cloth, tugging self-consciously at the hem of it when she was done. It wasn't really supposed to be _that_ short, was it?

"Oh! It's perfect!"

Isa's eyes were wide with delight when she finally stepped back into the main room of the store. She waved her hand impatiently for her to stand on the raised platform in the middle of the showroom so the modiste could make adjustments.

"You look beautiful," Mama declared, smiling delightedly.

Isa nodded her head vigorously.

"I definitely made the right choice. You look good in red. Stefan is going to _die_ when he sees you in this.'

Kira just about fell off the rostrum.

_Stefan_. She hadn't even thought about him when she'd seen the dress. Her mind flashed back to last night, when he'd seen the lingerie Isa had bought her, about his reaction. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson. He'd certainly seemed to like it, and somehow she knew he'd like the dress too. She thought about what he would say when he saw her in it.

And suddenly, the dress didn't seem that bad after all.

* * *

"Stop fidgeting _gatáki_," Stefan scolded. "You look beautiful."

Kira sighed and stopped squirming.

After they'd gone to the florist's, then the baker's, then the dressmaker's, then the caterer's, she, Isa, and Mama had finally returned home. Completely exhausted, she'd been looking forward to spending a day doing of lazing about the house with Stefan, only to learn that Isa had made plans for that night. And by _plans_ she meant a sort of second bachelorette party. Kira had missed the real one, and though she regretted not being there, she was definitely not feeling up for a night of dancing and partying. _Partying_ was not exactly her thing. Nor was the very...suggestive skirt and blouse Isa had leant her. She started fidgeting again.

"_Gatáki_."

She smiled sheepishly and focused on finishing her tea before Isa came down. Beside her, Stefan let out a low chuckle, hooking one foot around the leg of her chair to pull her closer. He nuzzled a kiss onto her cheek before moving his lips to her ear.

"_Gatáki_," he repeated. "There is nothing to worry about. If anything, _I_ should be worried."

"Stefan?"

"You are going to a bar. Without me."

He frowned all of a sudden, his brow furrowing.

"A bar. Full of men. Without me. In that skirt."

His eyes narrowed.

"I do not like the sound of that. Perhaps I should forget my Omegrion meeting tonight and go with you."

She laughed at the petulant expression on his face, and she couldn't help smiling at the way he stopped using contractions. When he got irritated or upset or any other sort of strong emotion, he tended to lapse back into very formal language. It was surprisingly endearing, and she leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. "We both know that I'm going to end up designated driver after a night of blending into the wallpaper. I doubt anyone's even going to notice I'm there."

"You underestimate your own beauty, dearling."

"Seriously. And who said you get to be a wallflower? You're going to be _dancing_ all night."

Isa appeared at the foot of the stairs in a pink cocktail dress, sky-high black pumps on her feet and a sequined black clutch in her hands. Her hair was a mass of curls piled on top of her head, and her eyes were smoky with makeup.

"How do I look?" she demanded.

Kira tilted her head to the side.

"Perfect.

Isa beamed and danced over to where she and Stefan were sitting.

"Stefan, are you sure you'll be alright by yourself?" she asked.

"Of course. I brought work with me from home."

"Excellent! Well, we really should get going Kira. Arabella and the others promise they'd meet us at _Sirena_ at seven and it's a quarter to. I wouldn't want to be late. Anyway, bye Stefan! We'll be home late, don't wait up!"

And without further ado, she grabbed Kira's hand and dragged her out of the house.

"Isa!" Kira protested, wondering how on earth her sister managed to walk so fast in four inch stilettos.

"What? It's true, I don't want to be late."

She was practically bouncing up and down with her excitement, and Kira considered it a veritable miracle that her driving wasn't affected by all of the excess movement. Well, perhaps it was, speed-wise anyway. The two of them managed to get to _Sirena_ in under ten minutes when she had it on good authority that it usually took twenty. But she couldn't fault Isa for her excitement, and in fact, found it rather contagious, and she was smiling as they entered the club to greet Isa's friends.

"Arabella you already know," Isa said when they reached a small group of women sitting at the bar. "And this is Lucianna, Eloisa, and Eloisa's sister Terra."

Kira hugged Arabella, they'd been friends when they were younger, and smiled at the other three. Out of all of them, Terra was the only one who was completely unfamiliar to her, being years older than them and not a part of the bridal party. According to Isa, she was some sort of fashion consultant, and Kira believed it. Terra's shoulder length hair was died a platinum blonde that was striking in contrast to her bright blue eyes. Her clothes were sultry and feminine and obviously very, very expensive, and her shoes were high enough to double as stilts.

"Kira?"

Isa waved her hand in front of her face, effectively ending her staring.

"I'm going to go dance. Come with me?"

"Isa, you know my dancing skills are almost nonexistent."

"Semi-existent is good enough for me."

Not ten seconds later, Kira found herself on the dance floor. Isa was laughing and smiling, her arms above her head as she moved her hips to the steady pulse of the music. Kira noted that more than one male set of eyes were on her sister, and she shook her head. The idea of that much attention made her highly uncomfortable, and she made her retreat as soon as she could. She loved Isa to death, but she had to draw the line somewhere. Silently, she wound her way back to the bar.

When she got closer to the counter, she noticed that Lucianna and Arabella and Eloisa had disappeared, presumably to join Isa, and that Terra had not. She was sitting exactly where she had been before. Briefly, Kira wondered why she'd come, surely she had better things to do than spend an evening out with her little sister's friends, but after a second, the wondering turned into embarrassed understanding. Terra was not alone.

A man sat next to her, though the word _next_ probably wasn't accurate. Terra looked like she was halfway to scooting into his lap, and he looked like he didn't mind one bit. She was leaned over, whispering something in his ear, and even from where she was standing, Kira could see that more than just a bit of cleavage was showing. Whoever the man was, he obviously noticed too, because he was most certainly not looking at Terra's face as she spoke.

Kira changed directions and walked away as quickly as she could without people staring.

She found an empty table on the upper level with a view of the dance floor and settled down. Below her, she could see Isa and her friends dancing, and she smiled. Isa was enjoying herself, and that was all that really mattered. The fact that her premonition had come to pass and that she was most definitely now a wallflower didn't bother her, she rather liked just sitting and observing.

Eventually, her thoughts turned to Stefan, and her fingers wandered to the mark on her palm. It was permanent now, and the smug smile from earlier in the day crept back onto her face. Stefan was hers, and nothing could ever change that. She loved him more than life, and as an added bonus, her family adored him as well. She hadn't realized how important their approval had been to her before they'd come to Italy, but now that she had, she knew that it was, and she paused to think about what Stefan's parents would have thought about her.

They were dead, he'd told her, but asides from that, she knew little to nothing about them. Stefan didn't talk about his past, ever, and that was just the way he was. Sure she was curious, and yes sometimes she wondered what he thought was so bad he wouldn't tell even her, but she trusted him and knew that he'd tell her when the time came. She knew he loved her, and that was what was really important to her.

As if her thoughts had brought him here, Stefan appeared at the top of the stairs that led to the club's upper level.

"Stefan?"

Her shocked voice was drowned out by the pounding speakers and the tide of voices, inaudible to human ears, but his head snapped around and his eyes locked on her immediately. Something she could only call relief crossed his features, and he wasted no time in crossing the room to reach her. As soon as he was next to her, he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Stefan?" she repeated, slightly alarmed by his expression. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

He didn't answer, his face buried against her neck.

"Stefan?"

"It's nothing dearling," he mumbled. "I just missed you."

She stepped away and put her hands on her hips.

"I wasn't born yesterday, you know," she said dryly.

Sighing, he sat down in the chair she'd just vacated and pulled her onto his lap. One arm slid around her waist, his other hand reaching for hers to lace their fingers together. He seemed rather reluctant to answer her, but when she very pointedly cleared her throat, he did.

"I was just checking to make sure you were safe," he said, his amber eyes meeting hers. "The meeting ended early, so I was going to walk around for a while. I ran into some daimons."

Her blood chilled.

Stefan had told her about the daimons. Vampires who had to take human souls to live. They'd been the creatures that had attacked him and Draven, the ones she'd seen him kill in the alleyway. The thought of them, here, made her pale with fear.

"Where?" she whispered.

"Shh _gatáki_," he soothed, lifting their joined hands and brushing her cheek with his knuckles. "I will not let anything harm you. The daimons are gone, dead. Nothing will touch you."

Slowly, the fear faded, replaced with the quiet certainty that Stefan would protect her. She wasn't exactly thrilled that there were soul-sucking monsters prowling the city, but she was glad he hadn't kept the truth from her, and she knew he wouldn't let anything happen to her. She relaxed into his arms.

"They're not here, are they?" she asked, gesturing to the club.

"No. I am most likely being overprotective, but I just wanted to check on you. It did not feel right letting you go somewhere alone, and now I know why."

They sat in silence for a while, and Kira sighed contentedly. Isa would be getting married in five days, and she and Stefan would be returning home shortly after that. When they reached New Orleans, she would go back to work, and these long lazy days spent entirely with him would end. So for now, she was determined to relax and just enjoy being with him.

"Kira!"

She sighed. So much for quiet relaxation.

Isa, who had obviously consumed more than one cosmopolitan, waved at her from the head of the stairs, her arm looped through Eloisa's.

"Kira! Come on!"

"I don't think she's even realized I'm here," Stefan said, seeming highly amused.

"She's just...mildly intoxicated."

Stefan laughed, a low rich sound that made her stomach do flip flops.

"Go _gatáki_, I will wait for you. This is her night, and I would not want to intrude."

"Are you sure?"

"I will watch you from here."

He gave her a quick kiss before letting her get up, smiling as she walked over to Isa.

"Kira! Where have you been? We've been looking _everywhere_ for you."

"Well, I was just-"

"Come on! I like this song. Let's dance."

Isa grabbed her right arm, Eloisa the right, and together they pulled her down the stairs to the main floor. As they descended, they nearly crashed into Terra, who was on her way up. Kira noted that the man who had been with her was nowhere in sight, but she didn't think anything of it, and she hastily apologized before letting Isa pull her the rest of the way down. Too busy contemplating how she was going to worm out of dancing for a second time, she didn't notice the fact that Terra had removed her jacket to reveal a slinky red top, nor the fact that she was carrying two drinks instead of one, nor the fact that she was watching Stefan like she wanted to peel his clothes off right then and there.

Oblivious, she let herself be pulled away.


	17. Chapter 17

Stefan tilted his chair back on two legs, teetering absently as he looked down at the people below him.

Clubs weren't really his thing, and he knew they weren't really Kira's either, but she was here for Isabella, and he was here for her. It was one of the many things he loved about her - her compassion and her willingness to do anything to make the people around her happy. He knew she'd only come because it was important to Isabella. And as for him, well, there were a lot of reasons he was here, the most important of which had been her safety.

He'd been wandering the streets after the Omegrion meeting, window-shopping, wondering whether or not she'd get mad at him for spending more money on her, when the disgusting smell of soulless vampire bastards had reached his nose. It hadn't taken long to take care of the two of them, and he'd made sure that they hadn't had any company, but he still hadn't been able to stop himself from seeking out Kira once he was done. He'd needed to see that she was safe, and now that he had, he intended on staying here to make sure it stayed that way.

He felt his lips tilt into a doting smile as he watched her squirm uncomfortably under the weight of Isabella's stare. On the one hand, he knew he should probably go rescue her from being forced to dance, but on the other hand, he was very much entertained. Still, when Isabella suddenly produced a young, not entirely ugly human male for Kira to dance with, he knew it was time to step in. Harmless or not, there was no way he was going to let another male get anywhere near his mate. Sighing, he was about to stand up and-

"Kira, huh?"

His head turned so fast he was sure he gave himself whiplash.

A woman had just dropped into the seat across from him. She was blonde, but judging by the rather disgusting chemical smell assailing his nose, it wasn't natural. Neither was her face. To the human eye, she was probably flawlessly made up, but to him, she was just that, made up. He compared her to Kira's soft, natural beauty and instantly found her lacking.

"Do you need something?"

He wasn't usually this rude, but he was eager to reach Kira and had no time to deal with a woman who practically reeked of pheromones. Especially not a woman who had drawled Kira's name in a fashion that was anything but friendly.

"Terra. Terra Milani."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Direct. I like that."

Terra leaned forward, baring more of her cleavage than he was sure was decent in a blatant offering that made him want to gag. Even before Kira, he'd never liked woman who'd objectified and degraded themselves like this. There was absolutely nothing attractive or sexually appealing about it, and it irritated him that anyone would think he'd choose the woman currently trying to advertise her body like a billboard sign over Kira. He barely fought the urge to roll his eyes when she set two drinks on the table and pushed one of them towards him. Tequila, if his nose was correct. And though the thought of indulging in his poison of choice right now, after the night he'd had, didn't sound like such a bad idea, there was no way he was taking it from her.

"I don't drink," he said instead.

"Just like Kira?" she smirked.

His eyes narrowed.

"How do you know her?"

"Just met her tonight. Friend of my sister's. But let's stop talking about her, and start talking about us."

If he wasn't so irritated, he would have laughed. Good gods, this woman was brazen, but he figured that was for the best. The ones like her knew what they were doing, and there was less likely to be a scene when he turned her down flat, which he intended to do. Now. He cast a glance back over the railing. Kira was talking to whatever-the-hell-his-name-was now, laughing at something he said. Damn.

"Terra, if you're a friend of Kira's, then I really do not think-"

"We're not friends. She's just some girl."

The insult was like a slap in the face, and an unconscious growl slid from his throat.

"Whatever you're offering, I am not interested. Now if you would excuse me-"

"What's a man like you doing with a girl like her anyway? I doubt she can give you what a man really wants in bed."

Gods, she was practically begging him to lose his temper. Even worse, he'd lost sight of Kira in the crowd.

"Terra," he growled, leaning towards her. "Listen carefully. Kira is my fiancée. If you had any sense at all you would leave, now, and try very, very hard to never come anywhere near her again."

"You're engaged?"

Terra's amused snort had her walking a very _thin_ line.

"What'd she do? Get you to knock her up? Because seriously, I can't imagine any other way she could trap any sort of man into marriage. I mean-"

"Stefan?"

Kira's voice came just in time to stop him from giving Terra the tongue-lashing of the century. Instead, he threw the other woman a glare that could have frozen lava before holding out a hand for Kira. One look at her face told him she knew what had been happening, and he winced. How the hell was he going to explain this to her? But before he could open his mouth, she cut him off.

With a kiss that made him so hard it should have been illegal.

_Holy hell._

Kira batted his outstretched hand away and slid into his lap, twining her arms around her neck. Her eyes threw grey fire as she pulled his lips down to meet hers, right before she proceeded to kiss his mind straight into oblivion. Her tongue tangled with his in an erotic tango, her hand slid down to toy with the button of his jeans, and she arched her breasts against his chest.

"_Kira_."

He pulled away, breathing hard.

"Hey sexy," she purred.

He could have come right then. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the fact that the wanton siren in his arms right now was most definitely not his Kira, but other parts of his anatomy really didn't care. More specifically, the part of his anatomy that was currently pressed against her luscious bottom. He bit back a groan.

"Kira, dearling, what are you doing?"

His voice sounded ragged even to his own ears, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Well," she said, her voice still that sexy purr that would have made a monk sweat. "I was down there with Isa, and she was introducing me to some guy she wanted me to meet. But guess what? The entire time that he was talking to me, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see you naked again."

He just about lost it.

He muttered an expletive that he'd never before in his life said in front of a woman before grabbing her and dragging her lips back to hers. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, desperate to silence her before she could say anything else. Because if she said one more word in that sex-goddess voice of hers, he wasn't going to responsible for his actions.

"Ach hem."

He broke away from Kira with a gasp, struggling to breathe. She, on the other hand, just smirked. A small, smug tilt to her lips that was the last chink in his control. When they got out of here, he was flashing her home so he could make love to her until the sun rose.

But she had other plans, apparently, because she shifted in his lap and turned to face Terra.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?"

Kira's voice was honeyed sugar, so syrupy sweet that he didn't believe it for a second.

"I'm sorry about that," she continued, not giving the other woman a chance to answer. "Terribly rude of me, I know, but I just can't seem to help myself."

She leaned forward, as if she were about to impart a grave secret.

"I mean seriously, if you think he's hot now, you should see him naked."

And then, while Terra's mouth was hanging open like a landed fish, while he struggled to keep his own from doing the same, she slid off his lap, grabbed his hand, and dragged him away.

* * *

Two hours later and he was still gaping.

"Would you stop looking at me like that?" Kira grumbled.

She was in bed, curled up amongst the throws and pillows, a mug of hot chocolate clasped in her hands. Her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and several curls had escaped to frame her face. She was wearing one of his t-shirt and an oversized cardigan. She was utterly beautiful.

"I can't help it," he answered huskily, moving to sit next to her. "I still can't believe what you said to her."

Her cheeks flushed.

"She was flirting with you," she mumbled.

"You know you have nothing to worry about _gatáki_."

"She's still not allowed to flirt with you."

She sounded petulant, and a slow smile crept over his face. Her jealousy was strangely satisfying.

"You are adorable," he said, reaching to touch her cheek.

"Hmph."

His smile widened at her irritated grunt, and he nuzzled his his lips against her temple. Much to his satisfaction, it was only moments later that she gave up on ignoring him and snuggled into his side. He laughed softly as she burrowed against his chest to ward off this cold, and he tucked the blanket around her carefully.

"Finish your hot chocolate," he said, stroking her hip. "It will warm you."

The next little while passed in comfortable silence, and he hummed softly, completely content to just sit there with her in his arms. While he had to admit that he was slightly disappointed his whole take-her-home-and-ravish-her plan hadn't come to fruition, there was something equally as intimate about what they were doing right now. Quiet, relaxed evenings were not something he was used to having, and the fact that he did now was something that warmed him to his soul.

"Kira?"

"Hmm?"

She glanced up at him curiously.

"I love you."

Her smile was so achingly sweet he forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"I love you too," she said softly.

She set aside her now-empty mug and snuggled closer, resting her cheek against his chest. She traced absent patterns on his bare stomach while he toyed with the ends of her hair, but her hand paused when she reached the scars that coiled around his hip.

The raised ridges were claw marks, four harsh slashes that had nearly cost him the ability to walk. He knew she'd noticed them before, but she'd never said anything, seemingly content to wait for him to explain. Even now, she just traced the jagged edges, not saying a word as she did so.

He bit his lip.

He wanted to tell her, he really did. He knew she held no secrets form him, it just wasn't in her to be anything but honest and open, and it killed him that he couldn't, wouldn't do the same for her. He wanted her to know, wanted to be rid of the secrets that had haunted him for over three centuries, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to be the reason the love in her eyes turned to hate and disgust. And it would - how could it not? Good gods, he'd killed his own mother. He'd failed to protect Ekaterina. He'd lost his whole family because he'd been too weak to stop it. He-

"Stefan?"

Kira's soft voice sent a tremor through him.

"Stefan, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The answer was immediate, automatic, and he was about to let it go at that, when he saw her flinch. Damn it. She knew he was lying to her, but like always, she just let it go.

Guilt hit him like a sucker punch to the gut.

He knew she wasn't staying silent because she was weak or complacent, she was doing it because she was waiting for him to be comfortable enough to tell her of his own free will. She did it because she trusted him. And the knowledge that he was betraying her trust, by lying to her no less, made him sick to his stomach. He flinched.

"I'm sorry _gatáki_," he whispered. "I did not mean to lie. I just-"

He broke off, frustrated. He raked a nervous hand through his hair as he tried to decide how best to tell her, where to start.

"You don't have to tell me now," she said before he could start.

Her automatic forgiveness only made the guilt worse, and his determination to get this out, somehow, strengthened. He would come clean with her if it killed him.

"-I know it makes you uncomfortable, and I don't mind waiting. We have the next few centuries together after all."

She smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his jaw.

The guilt was practically eating him alive now. He had to tell her. Somehow, somewhere he was going to have to find the strength to tell her the truth and the strength to leave her if she asked it of him. He shuddered at the thought. Leaving her would kill him. But she wouldn't want him to stay, not after-

"I was killed my mother."

The words came out in a jumbled rush, and he winced as they left his mouth. Of all the awful ways to start this conversation, he'd had to pick the worse. He tensed, waiting for her horror and disgust, waited for her to turn away in revulsion.

Instead, she hugged him.

He shuddered convulsively as she cuddled closer.

"Kira?" he whispered. "What-"

"I'm sorry."

Her voice was alight with sympathy and grief, grief on his behalf. He struggled to breathe as he watched the emotions play across her face and promptly lost the battle when he saw love dominate them all. She loved him. Still. He'd hoped she would, maybe even knew she would, but he'd never allowed himself to _believe_ she would. She was light and beauty and _good_, and he'd never allowed himself to believe that she could know what he'd done, who he'd been, and still love him.

But she did.

He breathed her name out raggedly as he buried his face in her hair, his body trembling ever so slightly as he held her. Never before had he been so acutely aware of how much he didn't deserve her, how much he loved her in spite of that. If she could love him despite what he'd just told her, he would love her to the ends of this earth and beyond.

"Kira, Kira," he murmured, over and over, her name the only thing that he could say.

She ran her hands soothingly through his hair, whispering nonsense that nevertheless meant the world to him. Slowly, he regained his control.

"How?" he finally whispered. "How can you...forgive me? How can you still _want_ me?"

The surprise in her eyes, like she'd never considered _not_ forgiving him, made his heart clench and his breathing hitch.

"How?"

She smiled.

"Stefan, I know you. You're the sweetest, most caring, most _loving_ person I've ever met, and I know that there's nothing you wouldn't do for someone you cared about. Just like I know that you'd never hurt anyone without good reason."

Her hand drifted to his hip, to his scar.

"I also know you didn't choose this. Whatever happened, I know that you wouldn't have done what you did without a very good reason, unless you had no other choice."

Her eyes met his.

"And so yes, I still want you. Why would I not?"

Gods, she was tearing him apart. He'd thought she couldn't get any more perfect, but oh, he'd been wrong. The depth of what he was feeling for her right now, the intensity of it… Her faith in him was turning him inside out.

"Dearling," he whispered. "I love you, I love you."

For a long while after that, there were no words. All he wanted to do was hold her and never let go, and she seemed perfectly fine with that. But eventually, inevitably, he felt her stir.

"Stefan? Would, would it be okay if I asked you why?"

Okay? He nearly laughed at absurdity of it. He was helpless to deny her anything. She could ask for the moon right now and he would find a way to give it to her, but all she wanted was an explanation.

"Yes dearling, I will tell you."

He was calmer now, his emotions nearly back under his control, and he managed to keep his voice level as he spoke.

"I was born in 1676. My mother was from Romania, my father from Greece. I had an older sister. My life...gods, my life was perfect Kira. Summers on the Greek islands, winters in the Romanian mountains. I had parents who loved each other and doted on me. And Ekaterina…I adored her. She was always laughing and smiling and spoiling me, and I adored her completely. My life was _perfect_."

He tensed.

"Do you know what the _trelosa_ is?"

She shook her head wordlessly.

"It is like…rabies. It is the Were equivalent of it at least. It usually sets in during adolescence, when our bodies' hormones and magic are at their most volatile, but my mother… My mother was over four hundred. It should not have been possible."

He laughed humorlessly.

"I guess it did not matter whether it was possible or not. It happened anyway."

His jaw clenched.

"My mother went mad. When a Were is struck with _trelosa_, they lose all semblance of perception and reality. Their minds are lost. My mother-, my mother truly and completely abandoned her sanity. She turned against us Kira, the family she had loved and guarded so dearly. She killed my father."

He heard her gasp, and his lips pulled back over his teeth in a soft snarl. He cradled her closer, needing desperately to feel her as he revealed things he'd never told anyone, not even Draven. She was everything to him, his emotional center, his keystone. Without her, he was lost. He needed her to finish this story.

"She killed him," he repeated darkly. "I watched her kill him. I watched her tear out his heart, and I watched him do nothing to save himself. Even when the woman he loved was no longer there, when it was merely insanity housed in her body, he would not lift a finger against her. He let her kill him."

His jaw tightened.

"And then, when she was done, she turned to her children. She would have killed us too, Kira. Gods, she would have-. The woman I would have given anything to protect, the woman I loved above all others. She was going to kill Ekaterina. I watched her reach for my sister, knew that like my father, she would not do anything to defend herself. I could not let that happen, Kira. I could not-, I-"

His voice cracked, and he had to stop. Shuddering, he dropped his face against her neck and simply breathed, trying to steady himself with her scent. Her arms as they slid around him, and her soft voice as she murmured soothing nonsense were impossibly precious to him, and he didn't move when he spoke next.

"I killed her. She was mad, and I did it to save my sister, but it does not change the fact that I killed my own mother. That I ended her life when she gave me mine."

"No!"

Kira's sudden vehemence made him jerk back in surprise.

"You didn't kill your mother. The _trelosa_ did. You just took away the horrible thing that was in her body after she died. You didn't do anything wrong Stefan. If it wasn't for you, Ekaterina wouldn't be alive."

He almost laughed, his emotions were that unstable.

"Is that not ironic? Because she did not live. My sister killed herself. Months after, when I finally hoped that we could put it all behind us, my sister decided it was too much. She decided that the depression and the anger and the hurt were too much to live with. She decided I was not worth living for. She killed herself. She would have rather died than stay with me."

His voice wavered.

"She left me a note," he said hoarsely. "A damned _note_. She said that she could not be a part of this world any longer, said that she could not stand it any longer. I did not believe, could not, but I-"

He shuddered

"I found her blood. I knew it was hers, I could smell it. There was so much of it Kira, gods, she could not have lost that much blood and lived. I do not-, I do not know what she did to injure herself so, but the blood disappeared into a river. I never found her. My own sister, and I never found her body."

His voice dropped, until he was sure she could barely hear him.

"Part of me did not want to. What kind of monster does that make me? That I did not even want to find her? But I was so _angry_, so-"

He broke off, shuddering.

"She left me, Kira," he whispered.

Grief, raw, pounding, cut through him. He would barely breathe for all of the of the guilt and anger and bottled up frustration that he'd tucked away for three centuries. But here, now, it all rushed forth in a horrifying onslaught that threatened to drive him crazy. She'd _left_. He'd killed their mother to protect her and she'd _left_. She'd left _him_.

"She did not love me enough," he whispered.

His voice broke.

"Not enough to stay."


	18. Chapter 18

"Stefan."

For the longest time, that was all she said. She lay next to him, her head pillowed on his shoulder, and just held him. His breathing was ragged, pained, and she searched desperately for a way to comfort him, to make him see how much she loved him. But all she could think about at the moment was how _furious_ she was with Ekaterina Kouris. Stefan had done the impossible to save her life, and then she'd abandoned him. He was her flesh and blood, her little brother, and she'd left him alone. Yes, she'd suffered horribly, and Kira couldn't even imagine the kind of pain she'd experienced, but that didn't excuse what she'd done.

_Of all the stupid, selfish things to-_

"Dearling?"

She jerked, not realizing that she'd been speaking aloud. But she had been, and he was waiting for an answer, so she gave him one.

Sitting up, she moved to straddle him, placing her hands on his chest as she leaned down to kiss him.

"I wish I could take your pain away," she whispered against his lips. "I wish I could have protected you from all of it."

"Kira-"

"No, let me finish. You were a child Stefan, and you did what you had to survive, to protect your family. Your mother was already gone, and you saved your sister. And whatever Ekaterina did after that was of her own free will, her own weakness. You didn't fail anyone. You saved them."

She touched his cheek.

"You're a good man Stefan," she said softly. "You're incredibly sweet and generous to a fault, you're a tad overprotective and you're horribly guilty of spoiling me, and you're fiercely loyal and you love unconditionally and unreservedly. You are everything I've ever wanted, and I love you more than life itself. I can't take away the pain of the past, but I promise you that if you let me, I'll spend every day of the rest of our lives loving you so much you won't ever have to feel that way again."

For a long moment, he said nothing. His eyes were unreadable, his expression blank, and he lay absolutely still underneath her. She bit her lip. Had she said something wrong? Oh god, if she'd made his pain worse, she'd never forgive herself. She just wanted him to stop feeling so guilty, to stop hating himself so much. How could he not see how perfect he was to her? She bit her lip again, wondering how on earth she was going to fix this when-

"_Goddess_."

"What-"

"Perfect. You are perfect. You are _everything_."

And then his lips were on hers.

One second she was straddling him, her hands braced on his chest, and the next, she was under him, his mouth hard and demanding against hers, his hands frantic as they tugged at her shirt. She kissed him back, helpless to resist the sensual onslaught of his tongue stroking hers, his hand cupping her breast, his hips rolling erotically against hers.

Somewhere under the desire-filled fog that was currently her mental thinking-capacity, she realized what this was. This wasn't her gentle Stefan, the one who held her like she was made of glass and touched her so reverently it brought tears to her eyes. No, there was too much desperation, too much hardness in the way he touched her now. The groans and growls that escaped him were more animal than anything else, and his kisses were almost bruising in their intensity. But she knew that this was what he needed right now, knew that this was the manifestation of all of his rage and pain and grief over the past three centuries, and she welcomed it. If this was what he needed, then this was what she would give him.

She looped her arms around his neck and tugged him closer, feeling more than hearing the satisfied growl that rumbled through him. She slipped her own tongue into his mouth, teasing, exploring, and the growl turned into a snarl. His lips slanted over hers as he realigned his body against hers so she could feel every inch of his steely frame against her. His erection was a clear demand against her stomach.

Lifting her leg, she hooked it over his hip and arched underneath him, gasping at the feel of his arousal now cradled between her thighs. A strangled curse left his mouth. His hand slid from her breast, down her side, and he gripped her leg, pulling her even closer. He groaned as he thrust his hips rhythmically against hers.

"I love you," he gasped. "You are my everything. I love you."

Seconds later, she felt the bed under her change as he flashed them from Italy to his house, but she didn't care, barely noticed. She wanted him. Reaching for him, she pulled his lips back to hers, determined to make him forget everything. She was going to make good on her promise to love him so much that he'd never feel that kind of pain again.

His lips were hard, dominant against hers, taking rather than asking, and whereas he'd always taken the time to unclothe her by hand before, he didn't have the patience for it this time. He growled "You. Naked. Now," before flashing her clothes off. She moaned at the feel of his bare skin against hers, pressing as close as she could get. His snarl of approval made her shiver.

His mouth left hers, trailing hot, wet kisses over her jaw and neck. He paused to nibble on her pulse before biting down hard. She yelped at the feel of his blunted teeth marking the skin of his throat, and he snarled again.

"You are mine," he muttered darkly.

He soothed the sting with laves of his tongue, pressing a soft kiss to it before he continued downward. He nuzzled the valley between her breasts, his tongue tracing scorching patterns over her skin. With teeth, tongue, and lips, he teased her, his mouth a sinful pleasure that had her whimpering underneath him. His lips closed around her nipple, and she cried out. Her hands wound into his hair, her back arched to press closer.

She whimpered at the loss when he moved away, and he chuckled darkly. Nipping and licking as he went, he moved down her body. A low, erotic purr escaped his throat as he nuzzled the soft skin of her belly. She trembled as he slid further down, and her breath came out in short pants as he dragged his teeth over her hipbone.

She nearly screamed when he took her into his mouth.

His tongue was oh so wicked as he teased and tortured her, and she moaned helplessly as he growled against her flesh. His hands slid to her thighs, and he anchored her to him as he flicked his tongue rapidly over her clit. White hot pleasure coursed through her, forcing her to writhe against him as she desperately sought her release. When he slid two fingers deep inside of her, it only made it worse, and she moaned his name on a plea.

"Come for me, _gatáki_," he whispered, and raked his teeth over her clit.

She screamed as she came, her back arching and her head falling back as she shook apart in his arms. He snarled in satisfaction. In seconds, he'd moved up her body, and with one quick thrust, he was seated completely inside of her. She jerked convulsively against him, her first orgasm blending seamlessly into a second as he thrust hard and fast against her.

"Gods," he groaned against her throat. "_Gatáki_."

His strokes were deep and powerful, his mouth harsh and demanding as he claimed her lips. One of his hands slid down her hip, grasping her leg and anchoring it over her hip, and he slid even deeper.

By now, she was nearly incoherent with pleasure, and-

"More."

Without warning, Stefan pulled out of her, a harsh curse escaping his lips. He flipped her over onto her stomach, his hand reaching for her chin and turning her head to the side. He bent and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips as he reentered her.

"_Fuck_," he snarled.

Kira jerked hard against him as he started thrusting again, her body struggling to take him at this deeper angle. She whimpered when she felt his teeth at her neck. He nibbled on her pulse, alternating between stinging bites and soothing caresses of his tongue. He captured both his wrists in one of his hands and held them against the headboard. And through it all, not once did his hips stop their movements.

"You are mine Kira," he growled against her neck. "You are only mine. You will _always_ be mine."

And then he bit down.

She cried out as her release crashed over her, and she jerked hard against him as wave after wave of unrelenting pleasure ripped through her body. Dimly, she was aware of Stefan's own orgasm as it claimed him, his large frame shuddering above her. She heard his voice as he cried out her name, reveled in the delicious weight of him on top of her as he collapsed half on her, half on the bed. They lay there together, panting, exhausted, for a long while.

After a moment, she felt him move. He slid off of her, shifting so that he could pull her against his side. He cradled her gently against his chest. Soft, whispered endearments fell from his lips as he pressed kisses to her hair, her temple, her cheek.

"I am sorry dearling," he breathed softly. "I was rough."

"It was what you needed," she answered in equally soft tones.

"That does not excuse what I did."

His voice was low, and he ducked his head as he brushed his lips over the nape of her neck. The slight sting told her his teeth had pierced skin when he'd bit her, but she didn't mind. She knew she'd been right when she'd guessed that the connection was something he'd needed, and she wouldn't have minded no matter what he'd done.

"It's just a scratch," she said lightly.

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "masochist," before pulling her closer.

"_Gatáki_?" he finally asked.

"Hmm?"

"You are truly not angry with me?"

She tilted her chin up to look at him, reaching to brush a wayward curl from his forehead.

"Why would I be?"

"Not about this," he said, touching her nape lightly. "About what-, about what I did."

She heard the uncertainty and pain in his voice, and she felt her heart break. How could he think she would think any less of him? She didn't have words to tell him how brave she thought he was, how much she loved him. There wasn't anything she could say to convey the depth of her feeling for him, so instead, she kissed him, pouring everything she couldn't say into that brief contact between them.

"I love you," she whispered when she pulled away. "Nothing you could ever say or do will change that. What happened in the past is in the past, but just know that telling me has only made me love you more."

His eyes were nothing short of smoldering as he reached to pull her lips to his, the kiss he gave making her toes curl.

"You are mine, Kira Serafina de Luca," he murmured against her mouth. "You are everything to me and always will be, and I will never let you go."

"Does that mean you're mine too?" she asked.

She'd meant it to be teasing, but his eyes only burned brighter, and his voice when he answered reached all the way to her soul.

"Yes, my love. I am yours. Body, heart, mind, and soul, I am yours."

And then he sealed his words with a kiss.

* * *

"Breathe Isa. Breathe."

Kira didn't know whether to be sympathetic or amused, so she decided on both.

She, Mama, Arabella, Eloisa, and Lucianna were all gathered around Isa, who was currently well on her way to hyperventilation. Her dress was stunning, her hair was perfect, her makeup as flawless, but Isa barely seemed to notice any of it. She was holding Mama's hand in a death grip, and her face was unnaturally pale. But, considering her wedding was only two hours away, Kira didn't blame her.

"You're not having second thoughts are you?" Lucianna asked.

Isa sent her a death glare.

"Of course not. I love Giacamo more than anything."

"Then why are you nervous?" Eloisa asked, reaching to fix one of the curls in Isa's elaborate coiffure.

"I don't know," she grumbled. "I just am. It's not every day that I get married, you know."

"No, it's not," Mama said gently. "And you have every right to be nervous. But just remember that you and Giacamo have been waiting a long time to start your lives together, and today is the day that you finally do."

Isa nodded fervently, and Kira smiled. Mama always seemed to know the right thing to say. She had no doubt that on her own wedding day, she'd be nervous as well. Then again, she mused, maybe not. She was already bound to Stefan by magic, through their souls, so a merely verbal ceremony seemed rather...anticlimactic now. She smiled.

For the next half hour, they sat grouped together in Isa's room, just talking. Giggling over the way Isa and Giacamo had first met, sighing over the way he'd proposed, smiling delightedly at the thought of children in the near future. Kira couldn't help the dimming of her own smile though, as the girls gushed over what Isa would name her firstborn. It saddened her that she might not be around to watch her niece or nephew grow up. Stefan hadn't said it in so many words, but she knew there was no way she could stay in touch with her family, at least in person. How long would it take them to realize that she didn't age? That she would look twenty-four decades, centuries from now?

So caught up was she in her own thoughts, that she didn't even notice that people had left until she felt a hand on her arm and looked up to see that it was just her and Isa in the room.

"You're a million miles away," Isa said.

Kira smiled.

"Sorry. I guess...a lot is changing today."

She stood, fully expecting to follow the other girls out of the room, but Isa grabbed her hands before she could. She sat back down.

"Isa?"

"I'm scared Kira."

Kira felt her eyes go wide. That was the last thing she'd been expecting her to say. Isa had always been the fearless one, the reckless one. She dove into things head first and didn't care what met her at the other end.

"Isa?" she repeated.

"You were right," Isa said. "A lot _is_ changing today. I'm getting _married_. And, oh, I love Giacamo more than anything else in the world, but this is just so..._surreal_. Everything is going to be so _different_."

"Want to hear a secret?"

She hadn't really meant to tell anyone this, let alone her very human sister, but she couldn't just sit there and do nothing while Isa looked liked she was on the edge of spontaneous combustion. Besides, it wasn't like she was telling her everything, just a tiny, tiny bit.

"Stefan and I are already married."

It wasn't a lie. By Were standards, they were.

"_What_?"

"Just recently. But I was nervous too Isa. I-, goodness, I can't even tell you how nervous I was. But trust me when I say it's all worth it in the end. As soon as you're standing in front of Giacamo at the altar, you'll know that there's no other place on earth you'd rather be."

Well, at least she assumed that was true. She hadn't been standing at an altar for her "wedding" after all. Nope. She'd been very much in bed, and very much without clothes on, but she decided it was probably okay to leave that particular bit of information out of her pep talk.

"It is a big change, a big chance to take, but when it's with the right man…"

She sighed dreamily. There was really no way to describe how it felt to know that she and Stefan belonged to each other in a way that was unchangeable, unbreakable.

"It's perfect," she said simply.

Isa still looked mildly shellshocked, so she leaned forward and pulled her into a hug.

"I love you Isa. You're loud and occasionally obnoxious, and you always eat the last Oreo without throwing the package away, but you're sweet and fiercely loyal, and I've never met anyone with a more generous heart. You're the best big sister that anyone could ever have, and I want nothing more in the world than to see you happy. So if you're ready now, I think that we have a wedding to get to."

Isa promptly burst into tears.

"Kira, oh, you have no idea how much I needed that. I love you too. You're the world's greatest little sister, and I'm glad you and Stefan have each other. I'm also glad I wore waterproof mascara."

It took a few minutes for the waterworks to stop, and then another few to make sure that everything looked exactly right again, but when the two of them left the room ten minutes later, no one would ever be able to tell that Isa had been crying. She looked every inch the beautiful bride, and Kira couldn't help but feel a little bit proud of her older sister.

She helped Isa with her train as she descended the steps, careful not to tear or wrinkle the silk and lace as they made their way downstairs. When they reached the bottom, she relinquished her job to a waiting Eloisa, who had been taking her job as maid of honor very, and in her opinion, perhaps too, seriously. After that, everyone hurried outside, anxious to get to the cathedral, and Isa was quickly bundled into the idling car. But when Kira would have followed, she felt a hand on her arm stop her.

She turned and froze.

Stefan was standing behind her, having seemingly materialized out of nowhere. He was dressed to kill in a perfectly cut tuxedo that emphasized his broad shoulders and his lean hips. His bow tie hung untied around his neck, the collar of his shirt still open. There really weren't words to describe how impossibly sexy the sight of his bared throat and collarbones were. But what really held her attention, what made her breath catch and made it impossible to look away, were his eyes.

They were liquid, molten gold, shining with a feral light that made her shiver. They darkened as they watched her, and when he spoke, his voice was pure sin.

"You, _gatáki_, look positively edible."


	19. Chapter 19

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Stefan had never been one to indulge in profanity, but right now, his brain wasn't functioning much past caveman level. When he'd first seen Kira coming down the stairs, he'd had to do a double take. His sweet, innocent little mate was sex on stilettos.

Her soft curls were twisted into a messy chignon at the base of her neck, the strands that escaped it brushing over her jaw and throat the same way he wanted to do with his tongue. Her wide, innocent eyes were framed by thick, sooty lashes, and her lips were painted the palest of pinks. The black stilettos on her feet put all sort of dirty thoughts into his head, most of which could probably make a prostitute blush. But her _dress_…

He got so hard it hurt.

Her body was sheathed in a blood red gown that he'd love nothing more than to peel off with his teeth. The material hugged her body like a second skin, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He could see the tantalizing swell of her breasts against the bodice, and her legs were all but bare.

God. Damn.

"You can not go out like this," he fairly growled.

There was no way in hell any other male was going to get to see her like this. Not when all he could process was how badly he wanted to get her naked and in bed. If another man so much as breathed in her direction right now, he was going to lose it.

"Stefan?"

He didn't answer, too busy nibbling on her neck.

"Stefan?"

Damn, her scent was going to drive him insane one day.

"Stefan? _Stefan_."

He let out a small growl as he pulled back, his eyes instantly locking in one the tantalizing pout of her lips. She really was adorable when she got irritated.

"Yes dearling?" he asked huskily.

"We have a _wedding_ to get to," she scolded.

Her voice was reprimanding, but he could see the telltale blush spreading over her cheeks.

"It is not my fault that I can not think past how much I want to make love to you _gatáki_. If you did not look so devastatingly beautiful, I would have more control of myself."

Her cheeks flushed pink, and he growled again.

"You are not helping _gatáki_. If we have any hope of getting out of this house, you are going to have to stop looking at me like that."

He laughed roughly when she hastened to turn around, halting her movements by wrapping his arms around her waist. He nuzzled his nose against the back of her throat, purring softly at the scent of caramel and freesia.

"I want nothing more than to take you home and make love to you until we are both too exhausted to move," he whispered against her ear.

She shivered.

"Stefan-"

"I know. Wedding."

Grumbling all the while, he released her.

"Come on," he said, holding his hand out to her. "If we do not go now, then I can assure you, we never will."

Her cheeks still flushed, she laced her fingers through his and let him pull her out of the house.

Much, much later, after a brilliant sunset ceremony, a change of dresses, and a very traditional Italian dinner, the two of them sat on a candlelit terrace and watched the newlyweds sway slowly to the soft ballad the orchestra was playing. Stefan felt something suspiciously like longing as he watched Giacamo and Isabella.

The ceremony had been absolutely beautiful. There hadn't been a dry eye in the cathedral, not, he had to admit, even his. And as he'd watched them, he'd realized that perhaps humans had the right of it in some things, after all. Though nothing could ever be more binding than a mating bond, there was something...primitive about a wedding. Most people wouldn't understand his reasoning he knew, hell, he barely understood it himself, but there was. Something primitive that was. Something gloriously primal about claiming one's mate in public, swearing to love and cherish them in front of a congregation, a crowd.

He was rather looking forward to his own wedding.

"Spring or summer?"

"Hmm?"

Kira looked up at him, her eyes wide with confusion.

"For our wedding. I would say fall, but I don't think I want to wait that long."

He paused for a second, his brow furrowing as he thought about it.

"Nope, I most certainly don't want to wait that long. Which brings us to spring or summer. Your choice."

"Very magnanimous of you."

He laughed at her sarcastic tone and pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Ah, _gatáki_, is it so bad that I want to bind you to me in every way possible, by every law there is, in both my world and yours?"

"Well when you put it like that…"

He laughed again, smiling in delight as she reached up to loop her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss. He sighed at the feel of her lips against his, nipping softly at the corner of her mouth before soothing the sting with gentle strokes of his tongue.

"Spring," she whispered against his lips.

"Are you sure?"

"I want _you_ bound to _me_ in every way possible, as soon as possible. So yes, I am absolutely, positively sure."

And then she smiled so sweetly he forgot how to breathe.

"I love you," he choked out.

"Not as much as I love you."

He scoffed at the impossibility of it, quite certain that no one had _ever_ loved another person with the depth and intensity he did Kira, and dropped a kiss in her cheek before tucking her gently against his side.

"I like this dress," he said, tracing the slender column of her throat with both his fingers and his eyes.

After the ceremony, she'd changed into a reception dress, soft blue silk that fell in soft folds to her knees and was cinched at the waist with a delicate gold belt. She'd also changed her heels for flats, removed the her makeup, and let her curls out of its intricate coiffure. She looked like herself again.

"You do?" she asked.

There was a slight hitch in her voice, the tiniest sliver of doubt, and he looked down at her in surprise.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You just-, you seemed to like the other dress so much."

She ducked her head, embarrassed, and he winced.

"_Gatáki_, I did not mean to-, I would not-"

He flinched again. He'd certainly made a mess of things.

"Kira, _gatáki_, I will not lie to you. I liked your other dress. Very much so. I am only a man after all, and I am not immune to such...provocative attire. But that does not mean I prefer you that way, dearling. Because I do not."

He touched her cheek tenderly.

"You are not _my_ Kira when you are dressed like that. No, my Kira is _this_ Kira. Soft and sweet and so utterly beautiful it makes my heart ache."

And it did. _She_ did. There wasn't a moment that went by that he wasn't completely in awe of her, enthralled by her. That he didn't realize how damned _lucky_ he was every second she was with him. He was not, by any means, the type to drown in self-pity, but he knew he didn't deserve her. Though he'd said it many times, and though he believed it unfailingly, it was not a conception born of self-disgust or hate or anything of the sort, though it might once have been. No, she'd healed him, made him realize that the past was the past, and his belief, his conviction that he didn't deserve her was not because he wasn't good enough, but because she was _too_ good. Too forgiving, too compassionate, too everything. There was _no one_, in this life or the next that would ever deserve her, but he thanked the gods every day that he could spend the rest of his life trying to.

"Stefan?" she whispered.

He shook his head. There weren't words for what he wanted to say right now. How was he supposed to tell her that he lived, breathed, _existed_ solely for her? There was, he thought wryly, always those exact words, but even they didn't seem like enough.

It surprised him, the sentimentality that a simple question of hers had brought on, but then again, it didn't. He'd always felt things on a deeper level than most people, with more intensity. He was not, by any means, a very social person, and he was not, also by any means, very good at making friends. He did not form attachments easily. But when he did, he embraced them with utter abandon. Those he loved, he did so with his entire being, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for those he held close. With Kira, his mate, the Fate-appointed other half of his soul, his emotions ran so deep he sometimes lost track of where they ended and logic and reality began.

But he didn't mind.

It should have been terrifying, being so utterly dependent on another person, but oddly, all he found was peace. After three centuries of wandering aimlessly through life, numb, searching, he'd finally found somewhere he belonged. And if thinking that made him any less of a man in his peers' eyes, then so be it. Really, there was nothing better than the feeling of knowing that there was someone you understood on a soul-deep level, who you loved unconditionally, and, perhaps more importantly, who understood and loved you with equal measure. The sense of rightness, of _belonging_, was something he cherished more than anything.

When his parents had died, he'd felt pain and rage and despair, but more than any of that, he'd felt lost, something Ekaterina's abandonment had only exacerbated. In the space of a few weeks, his entire family, the only sense of home he'd ever known, had been taken away from him. He'd been twenty-six, certainly an adult by human years, but no more than a child in Were terms, and losing his family had left him utterly _lost_. There was no other way to describe it. Everything he'd been, the life he'd lived, they'd ceased to exist. If it hadn't been for Draven taking him under his proverbial, and perhaps literal, wing, he rather thought he might have followed Ekaterina.

Even after Draven had saved him, had nursed him back to physical health, his emotional and mental states had remained his and his alone to deal with. And though he'd long since realized that suicide was the coward's way out, that the mere thought of him left him feeling rather nauseous, it did not change his belief that his purpose in life had been taken from him. The people who he loved and had loved him best were gone, and he'd been quite convinced after that that there was nothing worth getting attached to in this life. His fear of loss and pain had driven him to isolate himself, to live only a half life. He'd gone through the motions of living, but there had been no substance beneath that.

Not until Kira.

She had, and he was almost positive that he wasn't exaggerating in any way, given him a reason to live again. Before her, he now realized, he'd been living for the sake of living. It hadn't been for his dead family, it hadn't been for Draven. It hadn't even been for himself. Life was just something that was _there_, that existed and lasted for however long it lasted, whose quality and quantity didn't really measure on his scale of importance. Now though, now that he had _her_, he was fully certain that she was almost, if not completely, all that he lived for. Even the things that he now found occupying his time, his improved relationship with Draven, his new relationship with Giacamo and her family, they all came from _her_. She was the driving force behind them and everything good in his life, and because of that, he was completely certain that that his rather obsessive devotion to her was in no way unwarranted.

And even if it was, he thought with a smug smile, he really didn't care. He was happy, practically euphoric, really, every second he was with her, and that was all that really mattered. Well, that and making her happy too. The former, he found, usually depended on the latter.

Ah, who was he kidding. It always depended on the latter. Which was why the happy tears in her eyes right now were making him feel extremely pleased with himself. He fought back a self-congratulating smirk.

"You-, I-"

She couldn't seem to get out a proper sentence, and he felt his smirk soften into the tenderest of smiles. He bent to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes closing as he savored the feeling of being so close to her.

"I love you, too, _gatáki_," he whispered. "I-"

"We need to go."

The sound of a male voice directly behind him made his leopard snap to attention, and he whirled to face whoever it was, knocking over his chair in the process. His brain took a second to catch up with both the voice and the face, and when it did, he barely kept his jaw from dropping.

"Draven?"

Far from relaxing, his body tensed even further at the sight of his friend. Draven knew that he was here to spend time with Kira, away from his life, away from his duties. He would not have interrupted that by choice, so for whatever reason the falcon was here, it was not to wish the bride and groom a happy marriage.

"Draven?" Kira echoed. "What are you doing here?"

She, too, had recovered from the sight of their friend, so far from home, and she was now on her feet. When she placed her hand on his arm, he straightened out of the protective crouch he'd sunk into. He allowed her to step around him, though he stayed close behind her, and it did not escape his attention that Draven shifted closer to her as well. He growled under his breath, all of his senses on high alert.

"This and that," Draven answered vaguely. "Nothing too serious."

He smiled reassuringly at her, but when Stefan caught his eye, he knew that his friend was merely trying to put Kira at ease. He tensed further, if that was possible, and ran his gaze over the people around them. The easy relaxation from before had vanished entirely, and now everyone here was no longer a friend, merely a potential enemy, a possibly threat. He slid one of his hands to Kira's waist as he took in their surroundings.

His leopard was snarling, fighting relentlessly to get out. A danger to its mate was intolerable, perhaps even more so to him than it was to the man. Until both of them knew what that danger was, and had eliminated it, neither was going to calm down. The most important thing at the moment however, was getting Kira somewhere safe, not this wide open terrace where they could be attacked at any second.

"Kira, dearling, we must go," he murmured.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and fear. The sight of the latter made his leopard growl louder, and he barely registered the growl coming from his own mouth.

"It is nothing to worry about _gatáki_," he said, stroking her back soothingly. "Draven simply wishes to speak with us about something that is best spoken of in privacy."

She gave him a look that said she knew he wasn't telling her everything, but she simply nodded and stepped closer to him, letting him take her in his arms.

"Come," he said. "We must bid your family farewell, or they will search for us."

He exchanged a look with Draven before pulling her away, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. He kept one eye on her, the other on the room, his mind scrambling furiously to try and come up with a reason for Draven's appearance. A million different reasons filtered through his thoughts, but he discarded each and every one of the, and with each rejected explanation, his discomfort grew.

"Quickly," he murmured in Kira's ear.

Attuned as she was to him, she didn't question him, merely slipped her hand through his. He nearly sighed in relief. He had never been so glad for her unwavering trust as he was now.

"Mama? Papa?"

They had stopped at her parent's table,

"Kira? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Carlo and Regina turned around, looking concerned, but Kira just smiled breezily and waved aside their fears.

"Of course not, but I was feeling tired, and Stefan said he'd take me home."

"You're not sick, are you?" Carlo asked suspiciously.

"No, just exhausted. It'd been a long day."

Regina nodded sympathetically and patted her on the arm.

"Of course, you should rest. Just don't forget to say goodbye to Isa and Giacamo. They will leave for Paris before you wake tomorrow."

Kira kissed both her parents on the cheek, and when she hugged them, it was for a bit longer than normal. She was not, Stefan realized, as unobservant as he'd always thought her to be. Not only did she know something was wrong, she realized something very serious was wrong. She was saying goodbye to her parents, and not just for the night.

"Everything will be fine," he said as soon as they left in search of Giacamo and Isabella.

She just squeezed his hand harder.

The goodbyes took longer this time, something he should have expected as it was Isabella, and he was fairly fidgeting by the end of it.

"Hurry," he said. "We must find Draven before we-"

"Here."

Draven appeared at their side, his jewel eyes hard as he too looked around them, though for what, Stefan didn't know. He followed them as Stefan led Kira away from the crowds, into the woods behind the building. When they were a safe distance away, Draven held out his hand wordlessly.

As soon as Stefan touched it, they flashed back to New Orleans, to Draven's apartment.

And as soon as they were there, Stefan started asking questions.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Draven let out a resigned sigh, collapsing onto the couch.

"You're not going to like it."

"Draven."

"You-"

"I would know what it is I must protect my mate from."

At this, Kira looked up, her eyes uncertain again.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice hesitant. "Why do I need protecting?"

"I don't even know that it's _you_ that needs protecting," Draven said, his eyes hard.

"What do you mean?"

He grimaced.

"Stefan, while you were gone, an Omegrion meeting was called."

"What? Why did I not know about it?"

Stefan's blood chilled. He had been a member of the Were council for nearly two centuries. Never before had he been left out of the proceedings.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Someone brought a complaint forth, a complaint against you. And guess what? They have a supporter. Patrice Leonides."

Stefan scowled. He and the Arcadian lionswan had never gotten along, and he'd spent many an Omegrion meeting wondering how many different ways he could do away with her.

"What complaint?" Kira asked, bringing him back to the present. "Someone has a problem with Stefan?"

Stefan's mind worked furiously to go back through his memories. He'd never made many friends, but by definition, he'd never made many enemies either. Sticking to himself had its benefits, and he couldn't remember ever angering anyone enough to warrant appealing to the Omegrion. Draven's grimace, however, assured him he had.

"This is the part you're not going to like."

"Draven, just tell us."

The falcon looked highly uncomfortable, shifting around like he was going to bolt at any second.

"Draven."

"I really-"

"_Draven_."

Draven winced.

"She's back Stefan."

"What? Who?"

The look in Draven's eyes - the worry, the the anger, the _pity_ - they made his blood run cold.

"Who?" he repeated.

"It's-. Your sister, Stefan. Ekaterina. She's alive."


	20. Chapter 20

For a second, no one moved. Kira didn't think Stefan _could_ move. Or speak, for that matter, and she was the one who asked Draven what she knew they were both thinking.

"How?" she whispered.

"Hell, I don't know. She showed up out of nowhere."

"What did she want? You said she had a complaint? Against Stefan?"

The questions came one after another, in rapid succession. She was helpless to stop them. Her mind was going a million miles a minute, trying to catch up with the the news Draven had just given her. But no matter the shock she was in, she knew it couldn't even begin to compare to what Stefan was feeling, and she didn't even bother to fight the urge to wrap her arms around him in a silent display of support and comfort.

"What did she want?" she asked, more calmly this time.

Draven looked like he would rather be anywhere but there in that moment. His jewel eyes, usually so piercingly steady, were shifting nervously

"I'd rather-"

"Draven."

That one word was laden with a quiet command that would not be ignored. Stefan's voice was low with authority, and Draven closed his eyes in acquiesce.

"She told the whole council you murdered your mother in cold blood," he said quietly.

Silence once again descended.

Not only was Ekaterina alive, but she was accusing Stefan of murdering their mother. In front of the Omegrion. He'd mourned her for three centuries, and she paid him back with betrayal.

Kira had never before stumbled across either the occasion or the person that warranted the use of the word _bitch_, but she was starting to think she finally had. It was irrational, really, to hate someone she didn't even know so much, but she couldn't help that she did. Just like she couldn't help how protective she felt of Stefan. Again, irrational (and most likely stupid), seeing as he had a good ten inches and a hundred pounds on her, but she couldn't control the urge to shield him from anything or anyone that tried to hurt him.

Which was why she was currently going through a list of possible methods for disposing of bodies in her head. If she ever got her hands on Ekaterina Kouris, she'd probably need to know a few.

"Where is she?" she demanded in a low voice. "I'm going to kill her for hurting Stefan like this."

She'd never thought of herself as a particularly violent person, in fact, she went out of her way to avoid conflict whenever possible, but no one was allowed to hurt Stefan and get away with it. She'd thought she'd been angry when Papa had disrespected him, but what she was feeling now couldn't be described by paltry words like "infuriated" and "vengeful" and "murderous."

"As much as I agree with you," Draven said grimly. "She's untouchable, Kira."

"What?" she snapped.

"Most of the council believes her."

"Didn't you tell them the truth?"

It came out half question, half shriek.

"Of course I did," he answered, looking offended. "But they didn't believe me."

"Well why not?"

Draven sighed.

"Stefan's mother had the _trelosa_, and she killed her husband. Stefan only killed her to protect himself and his sister. If we could prove it, then there would be no problem. Weres with the _trelosa_ have to be put down anyway, and Stefan was merely defending himself. The problem is, we _can't_ prove it. It's her word against his. What's worse, most Weres get the _trelosa_ during adolescence, Stefan's mother was over four hundred. It makes people more inclined to believe his bitch of a sister."

"Do not call her that."

Kira's jaw just about hit the floor. It was the first time Stefan had spoken in at least five minutes, and he was defending his sister. Defending the woman who had abandoned him, lied to him, and betrayed him.

"Do not call her that," he said again.

He seemed to have snapped out of his prior stupor, and his amber eyes were once again blazing.

"I do not know what has happened to Ekaterina these past centuries, but whatever it is, it must have confused her. She knows I did not murder our mother, and she will remember this once I speak with her."

If his stiff posture wasn't enough to tell her how wound up he was, the fact that his voice was ten times more accented than normal and that he was speaking like they were back in the seventeenth century did. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth to say something, but then she closed it.

What _could_ she say?

It was obvious Stefan was in denial, because there was no other explanation for why he was defending Ekaterina. A quick look at Draven told her he was thinking the same thing. Stefan's jaw was set in a hard line, and she wasn't sure whether he'd been trying to convince them or himself with his words. Never before had she seen him this agitated, and it killed her to not be able to say anything. But telling him what she really thought would only upset him more, so she nodded and hugged him tighter.

Draven, however, obviously didn't have her qualms.

"Stefan, I know you don't want to believe it, but you weren't there. Ekaterina's not confused - she's batshit crazy. She went in there demanding payment in blood, and if the Arcadians have anything to say about, she'll get it. Half the Council's already demanding a _timoria_. Trust me Stefan, she's not the older sister you remember. She's a bloodthirsty, conniving bit-, _woman_, who wants nothing more than to see you dead."

"What's a _timoria_?" Kira asked, at the same time Stefan said, "she is not."

"A _timoria_ is just a fancy word Katagaria use for punishment. Of the worst kind."

"She is not," Stefan said again, slower, more forcefully this time. "Whatever caused her to leave me all those centuries ago-"

"Exactly, Stefan. She _left_ you. You were a goddamned cub and she left you after you saved her life, and _don't_ try to defend that. She obviously didn't give a crap about you, because if she did, why not come back? It's been three-fucking-hundred years and when she finally returns, it's with a pitchfork and a torch, demanding your head on a platter. Face it, Stefan, she's not your darling Ekaterina anymore, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

Stefan moved so fast he blurred.

With a savage growl, he leapt at Draven and collared his throat with his hand. The two of them went slamming back against the couch, knocking it backwards and flipping them both to the floor. Stefan was up and on his feet in less than a second, and then he was on Draven again.

Dimly, Kira heard a voice screaming the word _stop_, and it was only much later that she realized that the voice was coming from her. Harsh growls and hisses erupted through the room as they grappled for dominance, the sound of the bookshelf crashing to the floor adding to the din. No matter what happened however, nothing seemed to get through to Stefan. He was fighting on blind rage, rage that was fueled by so much more than the last hour.

She could _feel_ the anger coming off of him, the frustration, the need to release the hurt on someone else. He'd told her that speaking to her about the past had gone a long way towards healing him, but she realized now that it hadn't been enough. Even as his mate, there were some holes in his life that she couldn't fill, and the loss of his family was one of them. She knew that, knew there was nothing she would ever be able to do to fix what had happened, but it killed her to see him like this, absolutely tore her apart to see him in so much pain.

"Stefan, _please_," she begged. "I know it hurts, but you have to stop. I-"

Her words ended on a gasp. She cried out as something hard struck her temple, and she crumpled to the ground.

Instantly, a pair of arms surrounded her.

She nuzzled into the warmth, desperately seeking something to anchor her through the pain that radiated through her, but when she did, she jerked in shock. It was not Stefan holding her. She looked up to meet Draven's worried gaze.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

He touched her temple gently, growling softly as they came away stained with blood.

"It was a picture frame," he murmured.

"What?"

He gestured to the floor next to her, and she looked down to see a shattered picture frame on the hardwood. She vaguely remembered the same frame being on the bookshelf next to the door and realized it must have fallen off when they'd knocked over the shelf.

"I'm fine," she said, looking back at him.

His golden eyes narrowed in worry.

"Are you sure? I-"

"_Gatáki_?"

Stefan.

She looked up to see him standing a few feet away, his hand outstretched. But when she held out a hand for him in return, he shook his head and backed away. A myriad of emotions crossed his face in rapid succession, but chief among all of them was self-disgust. He look absolutely horrified, and she ached to reach out to him.

"Stefan-"

"I am sorry _gatáki_, I do not-, I do not know what overcame me. But that does not excuse what I did, I-."

He broke off and swallowed convulsively.

"It's fine Stefan," she said, desperate to wipe the agonized expression off of his face. "I'm not hurt."

He shook his head and took another step back. That tiny movement felt like an infinitely significant rejection, and she couldn't stop the flash of hurt that went through her at that. She knew he hadn't meant for any of this to happen, knew that _he_ knew she would never blame him for any of it. Why was he so hesitant to trust her? Even now, she could see the mask she'd been so sure had finally gone slipping back onto his face, hardening his features and masking his emotions.

"Stefan, talk to me," she said, not caring if her voice came out sounding like a plea.

"There is nothing to speak of," he said flatly.

"Stefan, you can't just-"

"She is my sister. I can do whatever I like."

She flinched back like he'd slapped her. He'd gone from worried to icy in half of a heartbeat, and she was desperate to get the old Stefan back, not this shadow of a man who hid himself from everyone, including her.

"Please," she said softly. "Let me help you-"

"Help how? You cannot change the past."

And then he disappeared.

"He-, he-"

Stutters and stammers were all she could get out, and she snapped her mouth shut, lest Draven think she'd lost her mind. Hot on the heels of the shock and confusion however, was _hurt_.

"Why?" she whispered.

"He just needs time to think," Draven said soothingly, stroking her hair.

"But he _left_."

She sounded like a whiny child, and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself. She could understand that he was upset, could understand that he was angry. She knew that this rage and hurt had been building up inside of him for three centuries, and that he needed some way to release it all. What she couldn't understand was him not letting her help. He'd left, rather than talk to her.

She stared at the spot he'd disappeared from for a long time after.

* * *

"Is it possible that they'll actually convict him?"

Later, after helping Draven put his living room back together, Kira sat curled up on a barstool in his kitchen, a mug of tea clasped in her hands. She watched as he stirred the sauce he had on the stovetop with one hand and checked the rolls in the oven with the other. When she'd offered to help him cook earlier, he'd adamantly refused and seated her down with a cup of tea and an order to relax.

"There's a good chance of it," he answered, flicking a sympathetic glance in her direction before turning back to the stove. "Like I said before, the facts don't exactly add up in favor of Stefan's defense, not to mention that the Arcadians would never skip over the chance to attack one of the Katagaria on the Council."

"I thought there was one more Katagaria patria than Arcadian, shouldn't that turn the vote in his favor?"

"There is, but Stefan doesn't have a say in his own trial. It's an even match. And if Patrice can convince even one of the Katagaria…"

He trailed off, but she knew what he was going to say anyway.

Killing in the Were world wasn't viewed the same was as it was in the human world. For them, it was simply a part of nature, a part of life. And, more often than not, they sought revenge on their own, or with their packs or prides. Still, that did not mean that the Council could simply ignore a claim such as Ekaterina's or deny her demand for justice. If forced, and Draven had already told her that Patrice and Ekaterina would push until they were, the Council would take a vote to decide Stefan's fate.

"Is there no way to stop this?" she asked.

"Not unless you convince the bitch twins to drop the complaint."

She frowned and gripped her mug tighter.

"I wish there was something I could do," she finally sighed.

A soft hand touched her shoulder, and she look up to see Draven standing next to her.

"Hey," he said gently. "Don't blame yourself for this. None of this is your fault, or his fault for that matter."

He cocked a brow.

"Well maybe his fault just a tiny bit. It really was kind of jerk-ish for him to talk to you like that and then leave. Want me to beat him up?"

She laughed, like she was sure he'd intended, and leaned up to drop an impulsive kiss on his cheek.

"You're a good big brother," she said.

"Don't you mean friend?"

"No, I mean big brother."

And she meant it. She'd only known him for a month or two, but already, she couldn't imagine life without him any more than she could imagine it without Stefan. He teased and joked and had a never-ending supply of mischief up his sleeve, but he was also protective and adoring, and she loved him every bit as much as she did Isa.

"Kira?"

"Yeah?"

"I guess you could be my little sister. You're annoying enough, after all."

But his voice was soft, and she could have sworn his eyes were just the tiniest bit teary, and he pulled her into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to her hair. He held her for a long while, neither of them saying anything, until he finally released her with a sigh.

"You, my dear, are too good for either of us," he said as he turned back to the stove.

She made a face.

"I really don't know why the two of you keep saying things like that. It's not true, you know."

He just smiled and shook his head before setting a dish of pasta in front of her. She waited until he'd made himself a plate and sat down next to her before picking up her fork and taking a bite, and when she did, she groaned in pleasure. The man could _cook_.

"You never told me you could cook," she mumbled around another mouthful.

"What?"

She just waved her fork, too busy chewing to answer, and he laughed.

"Ah, I'm alright at it," he said.

She rolled her eyes at the understatement. The two of them ate in silence for a while after that, and though she wasn't necessarily as at ease with the lull in conversation with him as she was with Stefan, she didn't feel the need to break it by speaking. Instead, she was content to simply sit and know that _if_ she wanted to talk, he would listen.

Eventually, though, they were done eating and she expected it was about time to say something. And when she did, there were only two words that she could come up with.

"Thank you," she said softly.

She wasn't talking about dinner, and she suspected he knew that. His lips curved in the smallest of smiles. It wasn't a mocking smile or a sarcastic one, and it wasn't one meant to make her laugh or smile in turn. It just _was_, and she suspected that that might be the most important kind of smile there was.

"I'll clean up," she said.

She ducked her head as she picked up her plate, not wanting him to see the tears she was sure were pooling in her eyes now. She was tired and upset and just the tiniest bit overwhelmed with the events of the day, she knew, but good god she was crying over a _smile_. He was going to think she'd gone off the deep end.

But again, Draven seemed to know without asking how she was feeling, and he gently pulled the dishes away from her hands.

"But-"

"No buts," he said, voice soft but brooking no argument. "You look like you're about to fall over, and I would prefer that happens in a bed and not in the middle of my kitchen."

Setting the plates aside, he motioned for her to follow him.

As she walked behind him through the vast confines of his apartment, she thought that, for all his joking and devil-may-care ways, Draven was incredibly intuitive. There wasn't much he didn't see, she was sure. Although, she was also sure that it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that she was about to have a nervous breakdown.

Still, when he paused outside what was obviously his bedroom, she shook her head.

"Draven, I can't-"

"Yes, you can."

"But-"

"No buts, remember?"

He smiled and reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

"You need to sleep Kira, and I wager you'll be more comfortable here than on the couch. Besides, I want you somewhere I can watch over you."

Good lord, the waterworks were starting again. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his chest before he saw.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you."


	21. Chapter 21

She wasn't here.

Stefan didn't have to call out her name to know that Kira wasn't in the house. The moment he'd flashed into his foyer, he'd known she wasn't there. It was too cold, too quiet. Even if she'd been sleeping, he'd have been able to feel her. There was something so alive, so vibrant about her, that she _couldn't_ have been here without him knowing.

He flinched guiltily. Why would she be here? He'd all but told her he didn't want her when they'd been at-

Draven.

Without another thought, he flashed to Draven's apartment. It was quiet and dark, but he knew instantly that she was here. The air smelled faintly of caramel and freesia, and more importantly, the silent ache that had pulsed in his chest since that afternoon was finally gone. His mate was near. Silently, he walked through the spacious loft, moving towards the faint light he saw at the end of the hallway. He paused outside a nearly-closed door, hesitating before he entered Draven's bedroom.

Draven, like him, detested lightbulbs and fluorescents, the unnatural lighting too harsh for his sensitive eyes, and the room was lit by a solitary candle. It flickered on the bedside table, casting Kira in a soft glow as she slept.

She was curled up in the middle of Draven's bed, the blanket tucked carefully around her, and her hair pulled back gently by a ribbon. Her breathing was soft and even, but she wore the smallest of frowns on her face, even in her sleep, and Stefan felt guilt consume him once again. She was upset, and it was his fault. His gut clenching painfully, he moved forward. He'd taken no more than two steps however, when a hand on his arm halted his advance.

"Don't."

It was one solitary word, softly spoken, but Draven's nearly silent command held more authority than it would have had he shouted it at the top of his voice. On top of that, his eyes glittered dangerously in the candlelight, stone cold yellow that was piercing in its intensity.

Stefan felt a growl building in his chest at the challenge that was clear in Draven's gaze. No one stood between him and Kira, not even his best friend.

"You'll wake her," Draven said in a low voice. "She spent half the night up, worrying about you, and I'd appreciate it if you don't wake her up after she finally managed to fall asleep."

The growl died in his throat. His eyes closed as silent agony washed over him. Gods, Kira was his mate, his _everything_, and he'd-

"She did not cry, did she?"

His nails bit into his palms as he waited to hear the answers. If she'd shed tears over his treatment of her, he would never forgive himself.

"Not much."

The words hit him like a physical blow. Not much. That meant, no matter for how short a time, his Kira had been crying. Because of him. He felt self-disgust roll through him in nauseating waves, let it drown out everything else, even the need to push Draven aside and go to her. The thought of another male between him and his mate was intolerable, but the thought of her pain was even more so. And as he was the cause of it, he allowed himself to be restrained from her, allowed himself to be taken from her. He followed Draven wordlessly out of the room, neither of them saying a word until they were in the kitchen. And when Draven finally did speak, it made his stomach churn and his heart clench.

"She barely said a word all night except to ask after you. She cried before she went to sleep."

"I-," he hesitated. "I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt her."

"Congratu-fucking-lations. Doesn't change the fact that she spent half the night in tears over you."

He flinched.

"I-"

"You're a damned bastard, you know that?"

Stefan felt the first licks of irritation coiling around his spine, but he forced himself to relax and let it go. Draven had a right to be angry.

"You're upset, I get it," he continued. "Your sister's a raving bitch, and Patrice is the unholy spawn of Hades. But did you even _think_ about Kira when you pushed her away and left this afternoon? Because she sure as hell wasn't thinking of anything else _except_ you."

The irritation was getting harder to push away. Draven was treading in dangerous waters, questioning his love for Kira like that.

"Draven-"

"You spoke to her like she meant nothing to you, and then you left. You're her mate Stefan. Her soul-merged, Fate-destined, goddamned blood-bound mate. You two are one in every way possible, but you pushed her away when all she wanted to do was help. Even when she was crying, she only wanted to know if you were okay."

Guilt, anger, frustration...they all swirled together in an explosive mix that pounded through his blood. Unconsciously, he growled, his body shifting restlessly.

"Do you know what she asked me?" Draven continued.

He smiled humorlessly.

"Right before she fell asleep. I don't even think she knew she was speaking out loud - she asked me what she did wrong to make you leave her like that. Gods, you really are a bastard. If you cared about her at all-"

And that was it. For the second time that day, Stefan lost hold of his temper. He, who had kept his emotions locked inside of him for three centuries. He let out a savage growl and grabbed Draven by the throat, throwing him back into the wall.

"You will not question my love for my mate," he hissed in a low voice. "Kira is _mine_. As much as I am hers, she is mine, and you will never imply otherwise again."

"I'm not implying," Draven hissed right back, slamming his first into his jaw. "I'm saying. Mating mark or not, you're not really-"

Snarling, Stefan cut him off with a hand around his neck.

"She _is_ my mate. She is everything. We are one in every way, and I will kill anyone who dares to say otherwise. Nothing will stand between me and my Kira. _Nothing_."

After that, several things happened at once.

The words he'd spat in anger seemed to catch up to his brain in slow motion, what he'd said just now registering in his thoughts. At the same time, Draven muttered something that sounded like "finally, you thickheaded bastard," and pushed him away. Stefan didn't say anything in return, too caught up in his own thoughts.

He really was a thickheaded bastard.

He and Kira _were_ one, mated, joined, bound. They were a part of each other in every way that mattered, and he'd been too much of an idiot to realize that.

_No_ he thought._ You realized it. You just chose not to see it._

He'd been so wrapped up in his own pain that he'd refused to let her in. He would not ask her to share emotions themselves, for he would never allow her to feel the hurt and betrayal he had, but maybe, he didn't have to face the magnitude of that pain on his own. Gods knew, she'd offered him comfort at every turn. She'd practically begged him to let her help, and he'd turned her away.

His jaw hardened. Never again. Kira was his mate, and he would embrace every facet and meaning of what that represented.

"I-" he hesitated, not sure how to say what he was feeling.

But Draven nodded anyway, his lips tilting ever so slightly.

"I know," he said. "Go to her."

Stefan nodded and moved to leave, but when he moved the doorway, he paused.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I do not think I have ever done it before. Ever thanked you. For finding me that day. For saving my life. For making me realize what Kira meant to me, before and now. I owe my life to you Draven, in more ways than one, and that is something I will never be able to repay you for. Thank you."

He didn't look back as he left.

* * *

He didn't wake her.

For a long time, he simply sat on the edge of her bed, stroking her hair. He was silent as he smoothed her curls back from her face, pausing every now and then to brush his fingers over her cheek, her jaw, her lips. Anywhere, really. He just needed to be near her, to be touching her. It soothed him. And, maybe he was imagining it, but he liked to think it soothed her too. He liked to think that the frown that had turned her lips had eased just the tiniest bit, or the stress that had tensed her features had lessened, if only a little.

"I am sorry, _gatáki_," he whispered.

She didn't answer, and he hadn't expected her to, but he felt like he needed to say it anyway.

In the grand scheme of things, he knew, this probably wasn't the worst fight they'd ever had. They had the next few centuries together, and he knew that it was inevitable they would end up disagreeing over things. Still, this felt like the most _important_ of all those disagreements, and not just because it was the first. He had pushed her away, and that was something he would never do again. No matter what they argued about in the future, they would always do so knowing that they were one, completely and irrevocably.

He wouldn't allow anything else.

* * *

"Stefan?"

Kira's voice and a soft hand on his shoulder jolted him from his sleep. His eyes snapped open, and he looked up to see her sitting up next to him, the comforter hugged protectively to her chest. Instantly, he flashed human.

"I am sorry _gatáki_," he said. "I did not mean to fall asleep."

He'd stayed up until the early hours of the morning, simply holding her, but he must have dozed off somewhere along the line. He hadn't even noticed when she'd woken up. He frowned. Perhaps it was wrong of him, but he'd been rather hoping to speak to her right when she woke up, before she had the chance to fully gather her thoughts. By the looks of things however, she'd been up for a while. Her hair was damp from a shower, and she wasn't wearing the same clothes she had been the night before.

"Draven took me home."

She looked nervous.

"What?"

"The new clothes. Draven took me home so I could shower."

His frown deepened.

There relationship was many things, but strained was not one of them. But there was an unmistakable tension in the air, and _awkward_ was perhaps the nicest was to describe the silence that fell over the room.

"Kira," he started.

"Stefan?"

She bit her lip and worried it between her teeth, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

"Stefan, I-, I'm sorry."

"What-"

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just didn't want you to be sad anymore, and I needed someone to blame, but I shouldn't have blamed Ekaterina, not just because it upset you, but because you're right. I don't know anything about it, and I shouldn't have tried to pretend I did, but please, please, don't be angry with me. I can't stand it."

The words came out in a jumbled rush he barely understood, and by the time she was finished, tears once again glistened in her eyes.

For a long moment, he couldn't say anything, shock being the only thing his mind was able to process. She thought he was angry with her. Though he knew he'd given her no reason to think otherwise, it was still a shock to hear _her_ apologizing to _him_. And the tears in her eyes…

"Oh dearling, _no_."

He pulled her into his arms without another word.

"Kira, my mate, my love, _no_. You have _nothing_ to apologize for. I am not angry with you, I never was, and it is I who must apologize. I hurt you when all you wanted to do was help. I swore to you to love and protect you forever, but I hurt you instead, and I am so, so sorry. Please, my love, tell me you forgive me."

She answered by throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his neck.

"Of course I do," she whispered.

For a long time after, they sat in silence, the air still except for the sound of their breath and the beating of their hearts. Eventually though, he pulled back just enough to brush a kiss on her forehead, his lips curving in a small, ironic smile.

"We make quite a pair, do we not?" he asked dryly.

She laughed like he'd been hoping and snuggled deeper into his arms.

"We are kind of silly, aren't we," she giggled.

"That we are _gatáki_."

He held her for a little while longer before letting her go, standing up and offering her his hand. When she took it, he pulled her to her feet and led her out of the room. The smell of coffee was floating down the hallway, and he followed it to the kitchen, where Draven was waiting with narrowed eyes and a single arched eyebrow.

"So?" he prompted.

"So what?"

"Have you stopped being a self-centered bastard yet? I spent all morning moving my favorite furniture to safer locations. Just in case I need to punch you again or beat some sense into you."

"Draven!"

"Hey beautiful, I'm glad you're feeling better. Do you want coffee? I made coffee. For you. Not for Stefan."

Stefan couldn't help but laugh at the look of horrified glee on Kira's face.

"Oh come on, you know you want to laugh," he teased.

She shook her head, her lips clamped tightly together.

"Not even a little bit?"

She shook her head again and very studiously ignored him as she went to take the mug that Draven held out for her. She took one sip and groaned.

"You even make good coffee," she sighed. "I think I'm in love with you."

"You, me, and Vegas, beautiful. Anytime."

Stefan scowled.

"Stop flirting with my Kira, before I decide to take advantage of your rearranged furniture," he growled, slipping an arm around Kira's waist and pulling her closer.

"Hey, I'm just saying."

The rest of their morning passed in much the same fashion as it had begun. Light conversation, teasing...Stefan knew that both he and Draven were trying to make things as normal as possible for Kira. Draven kept up a steady stream of witty banter, and no matter how much Stefan complained about his incessant flirting, he truly was grateful for the genuine affection the falcon seemed to hold for his mate.

Eventually, though, they had to return to reality.

"What are we going to do about..._her_?"

Stefan was surprised by the venom in Kira's voice, but really, he shouldn't have been. He'd spent a lot of time the night before thinking about what Draven had told him, and he'd done it in the only place he could think of.

He'd returned to the river where he'd thought she'd died.

For hours, he'd sat on the bank, staring into the water. He'd let himself relive memories he'd promised himself he'd never think about again. He'd thought about the way Ekaterina had looked at him after he'd killed their mother, the horror in her eyes. The way that horror had turned to revulsion. The way she wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't look at him, even weeks before she'd disappeared. He'd known something was wrong, and even if he could never have guessed what she'd been thinking, or what would become of her, he knew that Kira and Draven were right. Ekaterina was no longer the doting sister that he remembered from his childhood. She had not been for a long time.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I honestly don't know. I have been left out of the Omegrion proceedings, and I only know what Draven has told me."

"I've _been_ in the Omegrion proceedings and I still don't know what to do."

Draven frowned.

"In all honesty, Kira, I don't think there's much we can do. Ekaterina and Patrice have made their case, and short of _eliminating_ them, sorry Stefan, we can't stop them. If they hadn't already approached the Council, there's a lot of things we could have done, but now that they already have…"

He trailed off, his shoulders raising in a helpless shrug.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, but it's really out of our hands now."

It was the first time Stefan had ever heard Kira swear, and it wasn't a very nice swear word either. If his life wasn't hanging, literally, in the balance here, he would have laughed. But it was, and he didn't, just hugged her even closer instead. He needed to hold her, needed her to center him.

He knew that now.

"Don't worry _gatáki_," he said soothingly. "Nothing will happen."

She turned and frowned.

"You don't need to try and protect me Stefan. Draven said it's a fifty-fifty chance right now, what with you not being able to vote, and that's not exactly nothing's-going-to-happen-so-don't-worry statistics."

"You are right, they are not. But there is nothing we can do to change it, and it will not do you any good to worry."

"I'm your mate Stefan. You're _mine_, and I can't just sit back while someone tries to take you away from me."

She sounded extremely possessive, and he couldn't help but smile a little bit at the protective tone in her voice. His petite, human mate looked ready to take on a pack of Arcadian sentinels for him.

"Ah, I do love you _gatáki_. You have no idea what it means to me that you would defend me like this. But when I said that there was nothing either you or I could do, I meant it, and I will not have you putting yourself in danger for me."

"But-"

"No, dearling."

She gave him a mutinous look, but subsided. Silence descended over the room, and he was getting ready to take her home, when Draven spoke up.

"What about Savitar?"

Stefan furrowed his brows.

"What about him?"

"He could help us."

"Draven-"

"No, really. You know that ever since he mated, he's been less of a sadistic bastard. His will supersedes anything the Council decides, and if we can convince him-"

"It's a suicide mission Draven. Yes, he could very well decide that I am innocent, but he could just as easily decide we're irritating him and kill us both. You know he cares about nothing except his mate."

"Stefan-"

"I will not let you risk your life for me Draven."

"But I-"

"No."

Draven let out an irritated sigh.

"Stubborn idiot," he muttered.

"Who's Savitar?"

Kira looked back and forth between them, confusion clear in her eyes.

"He's the head of the Omegrion," Stefan explained.

"He's a Were?"

"No. No one knows what he is, just that he's more powerful than any other being that any of us have ever encountered."

"So isn't Draven right? If we-"

"No."

The word came out harsher than he'd intended, but the same idea of Kira anywhere near Savitar made Stefan's blood chill. He'd destroy her.

"No, my love. Asking Savitar for anything is not a good idea. He's dangerous, _gatáki_, and I do not want you to do have anything do with him."

He frowned.

"We will find some other way to deal with this. We have no other choice."


	22. Chapter 22

Stefan was going to kill her.

He was going to track her down, find her, and then he was going to kill her. The only thing she hadn't figured out yet was _how_ he was going to do it. Strangle her, probably. Lack of oxygen to her brain would keep her form formulating any more stupid plans, plans like the one she was currently executing.

"I'm dead," she muttered. "I am so very, very dead."

"You look perfectly alive to me."

Kira jerked around to see a very tall, very attractive man standing behind her. Tall and lean, his black hair was swept carelessly back from his face, revealing hazel eyes that shone with an intensity that reminded her sharply of Draven. Were eyes, is she was right, but then again, there was no way for her to be sure. She shuffled uncomfortably.

"Figure of speech," she mumbled.

"Ah, well, we all have those days. You know what fixes those days? Alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

"I-"

She opened her mouth to refuse, but then thought better of it. He might be able to help her.

"Sure," she said instead.

He grinned, and she fought the urge to sigh. Really, it wasn't fair that all Weres were so attractive, and she was almost certain he was a Were now. His loose-limbed prowl as he led her to the bar had an animal grace that marked him as something decidedly not human.

"Hey Cherif. Tequila, please."

"Stefan drinks tequila," Kira murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, er, nothing."

Kira blushed when she realized she'd been talking out loud.

"So," the stranger said, picking up his glass and swirling the amber liquid around absently. "What brings you to Sanctuary?"

"Are you part of the Omegrion?"

She blushed even harder at her outburst, ducking her head and hiding behind a curtain of curls. She took the water Cherif gave her, surprised and touched that he'd remembered her, and took a sip, thinking that if there ever was a time to start drinking alcohol, this was it. A bit of liquid courage right now would not have gone amiss.

When she looked back up, it was to meet narrowed eyes.

"How do you know about the Omegrion?"

"I-"

"Draven? Huh. I never would have thought he'd take up with a human. But to each his own I suppose. Besides, Draven's always been a little bit _odd_, if you know what I mean. Honestly, his name is Draven _Hawke_ and he's a _falcon_. The irony."

The man shook his head with a dramatic sigh before taking a sip of his drink.

"How-"

"His scent is all over you, like _all over_. What'd he do? Slobber on you? Yeesh. These avian breeds, horrid they are."

"Draven and I," she stammered. "We never-, we're not-"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm before continuing.

"Draven and I are friends, nothing more, but that's not why I came here. I came here to find Savitar."

The man's eyes narrowed again.

"Just who exactly are you?" he asked, leaning forward. "_Human_, from what I can tell. Why are you looking for Savitar?"

"That's not-"

"Oh, I think it is my business. A man like Savitar would rip a girl like you apart without batting an eye. You want to be very careful when you step into our world sweetheart, because it's going to eat you and spit you back out before you can say 'oops'."

Kira fought not to flinch under the weight of his gaze. The words _intimidating_ and _dangerous_ didn't even begin to describe this man. She was under no illusion that, before, she would have hightailed it out of there and spent her night in ice-cream therapy, trying to forget that Sanctuary even existed. But this was now, and this was for Stefan, so she squared her shoulders and met his gaze head on.

"Why I want to see Savitar is none of your business, contrary to what you think, and I don't have to tell you anything. I'm well aware of how dangerous your world is, but right now, it's just as much mine as yours, and if you won't help me, I'll find someone else who will."

He started laughing.

The man actually started laughing, clutching his stomach like he was in pain, he was laughing so hard.

"Oh," he gasped, wiping at the corner of his eye. "You should have seen your face. You looked like you were going go ask Celt-boy over there for his srads so you could kill me with them. Ah, humans are more entertaining than I remember."

"Um…"

"Fang Kattalakis, pleasure to meet you."

"Kira de Luca?"

It came out sounding like a question, and Fang smiled.

"Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Stefan is one lucky son of a-"

"You knew?"

Kira's eyebrows felt like they hit her hairline.

"You knew I was mated to Stefan?"

"Of course I did. If it smells like Draven slobbered on you, it smells like Stefan-, well. You know."

He waggled his eyebrows.

"I've only met him a few times, but Stefan's pretty well known in the Were world. For doing nothing, ironically. Huh, maybe that's why he and Draven are friends. Ironic buddies."

"Fang-"

"Oh, yeah. Savitar."

He furrowed his brow.

"I still don't know why a nice girl like you is looking for that crazy bastard, but if you really want to meet him."

He shrugged, and Kira gasped.

They were most certainly no longer in Sanctuary.

Instead, they were standing in the foyer of what had to be a very extravagant home. Second only to Stefan's, and a Parthenon-inspired mansion was rather hard to beat. Kira only had time to take in a grand staircase and a crystal chandelier before she was wept through a large set of double doors and into an equally impressive living room. This time, however, she didn't notice the décor. She was too focused on the two people sitting on the couch.

God, it really was unfair. The man lounging on the leather sofa was every bit as gorgeous as Fang or Draven. Dark, multi-colored hair, vivid green eyes. A kind of rugged, masculine beauty that could only belong to a Were, and she had no doubt he was one. The woman next to him though, she seemed human. She certainly was beautiful, so that wasn't it. No, it was that there was no hardness about her, no veiled mysteriousness. Just open kindness and curiosity as she stood up to greet them.

"Fang, it's always nice to see you. Who's this?"

"Yes _Fang_, who is this?"

The man was now standing in front of who Kira assumed was his mate. The protective stance he'd taken was a dead giveaway.

"Chill, Vane," Fang said. "If you'd take a minute and sniff the air, you'd realize she's a, human, and b,-"

"Stefan Kouris's mate. Vane Kattalakis, it's a pleasure to meet you. That idiot over there is my brother."

Kira shook his hand when he offered it, feeling a shiver go through her at the strength she felt at just that brief touch. This was not a man you wanted to cross.

"Kira de Luca, it's nice to meet you as well. I-"

"She's here to see Savitar."

The woman behind Vane suddenly stepped forward, frowning.

"Fang, it's not polite to interrupt people."

"Sorry, mom."

"Mom?"

Kira furrowed her brow, confused.

"Not really. Kira de Luca, Bride McTierney, the poor soul who ended up mated to Vane. Bride, this is Kira, Stefan Kouris's mate. Stefan's on the Council with Vane and Fury."

Kira smiled weakly at Bride, trying not to show how overwhelmed she was, but the other woman seemed to know anyway. She shot a very nasty scowl in Fang's direction before making shooing motions with her hands.

"You've scared the poor girl to death," she scolded.

"I was gentle!"

"Fang, your idea of gentle is the equivalent of getting hit with a sledge hammer. Now _go_. Vane and I can handle this."

Fang rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, but he gave his sister-in-law an affectionate kiss on the cheek and disappeared like she'd asked. And as soon as he was gone, Vane muttered a "thank god" and collapsed on the couch.

"Why do we tolerate him?" he asked.

"Because he's your brother and you love him no matter how much you complain."

Vane made a face, but Kira noticed he didn't contradict his wife.

"Now," Bride said. "Why do you need to see Savitar?"

And Kira told them. She told them that Stefan had thought his sister dead, told them what he'd done to protect her. Told them how she'd abandoned him only to return and betray him. Told them that Ekaterina wanted Stefan dead, and that his life now rested in the hands of the Council. All the anger and frustration she'd been feeling, every emotion that she'd struggled to hide from Stefan so he wouldn't worry, she poured it all right now. She knew that Vane already knew most of this, but she couldn't have stopped the words if she'd tried.

Through it all, they listened. Bride with tears in her eyes, and Vane with a steady intensity that somehow was more comforting than any amount of sympathy could have been. His quiet strength reminded her of Stefan, and she suspected it was that more than anything else that helped her finish speaking.

"I'm sorry," she said when she finally did, blinking quickly to stop the tears that threatened. "I didn't mean to come in here and be such a burden. It's just that Draven said that Savitar might be able to help, and I-. Stefan's only been mine for a month, two, but I-."

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"I can't lose him," she whispered. "I can't. And I can't let him be hurt either. Draven told me what a _timoria_ is, he even told me what happened to you, Vane. I won't let that happen to Stefan, not if I can stop it."

Silence fell over the room, and she winced, sure that she'd have to look somewhere else in order to find help. But when she stood to go, Vane spoke up.

"I believe you," he said quietly. "And I believed Draven when he told the Council that your mate was innocent. I've known Stefan since he joined the Omegrion almost two centuries ago, and he's a good man. But the rest of the Council, especially the other Arcadians, aren't so generously inclined, and Savitar-"

He hesitated.

"Savitar is an entity that nobody really understands. He's not a Were and he's not a god. He's-, something. But I do know that he's never been particularly inclined towards the...dramatics of the Council, and he-"

"How do you know I'm not a god? I could be a god. Who told you I wasn't a god?"

Kira jumped at the sound of a voice directly behind her and whirled around to find the most oddly dressed man she'd ever seen in her life. Blue and green Hawaiian shirt and black and yellow board shorts. And biker boots. The only thing more distracting than his clothes were the multicolored tattoos that covered very visible inch of his skin.

"Hey," he said to her, sounding remarkably relaxed for a person who was standing in the middle of someone else's living room. "Savitar. Head of the Omegrion and not-god."

"Kira de Luca-"

"I know."

Savitar turned to Bride.

"Syri says hi. To you, not Vane. She still doesn't like him."

"Savitar!"

"Well, she doesn't not _like_ him."

He shrugged and turned back to Kira.

"Like I was saying, I know who you are, and I know why you're here. I might possibly have been eavesdropping on your conversation with Vane and Bride."

Kira bit her lip.

"I-, I'm really sorry to just barge in on all of you like this-"

"But you love your mate, and you're hoping I'll save him."

She nodded and fell silent. From what Vane had said, Savitar already knew everything she might possibly have to say, and unlike Vane, Savitar didn't seem type to tolerate emotional story-telling. And so she fell silent. She forced herself to meet his dark, violet eyes and watched him with an expression that she hoped wasn't as desperate as she felt.

Savitar really was her last hope.

She'd talked to Draven the night before. Stefan had gone out, too worked up to stay in the house, and she'd sat down to talk with Draven. He'd told her in hushed, solemn tones that after the Omegrion meeting he'd had that day, he was almost certain that Stefan was going to be convicted. A stoic, silent Stefan stood no chance against a crying female with an emotional sob story about how her older brother had killed their parents before threatening to kill her. Surprisingly, the Council was not split down the middle between Katagaria and Arcadian, but it didn't matter. The Council would vote against Stefan, and his _timoria_ would kill him.

Like he knew what she was thinking, Savitar arched his brow.

"He's probably going to lose his trial, you know that, right?"

A mix of affront and simple irritation curled around her spine. His tone was thoughtful, pondering, like he was discussing the weather and not a man's life.

"Yes," she said stiffly. "I do."

"You know if he loses, he'll get a Were punishment, right?"

"I know what a _timoria_ is," she bit out, wondering what he was trying to accomplish by reminding her of all of this.

"You know if he gets a _timoria_ there's a 99.99% chance it'll be fatal, right?"

"Yes."

She didn't trust herself to say anything else. Irritation had evolved into anger, and she struggled to remind herself that he could be Stefan's only hope at acquittal, but his blasé, almost flippant tone was enough to make her grind her teeth.

"You know that you'll die too, right?"

"Yes."

Really, a one word answer was all she could manage without saying something that began with _fuck_ and ended with _you_.

"I mean, I can _smell_ the blood bond on you and-, wait. Is that why you're here? You don't want the blood bond to kill you too? I know immortality is pretty appealing to you humans these days, though Weres aren't technically _immortal_-"

She slapped him. It was probably the stupidest thing she'd ever done in her life, and later, she'd realize that he'd _allowed_ her hand to make contact with his cheek, but in that moment, it was a gut reaction that she couldn't have stopped if she'd wanted to. And she didn't.

"You're a bastard," she hissed. "Stefan is my mate and I want to save him because I _love him_, not because I don't want to _die_."

She spat the last word with as much venom she could muster, and considering how _furious_ she was right now, it was quite a bit.

"I may be human, but Stefan is _mine_, and no one will _ever_ question what I feel for him."

She fell silent after that, near shaking with the force of her anger. All these damned Weres and their damned superiority-complex. Humans weren't the ones who had tied Vane and his brother to a _tree_ in a _swamp_ to be eaten by _alligators_. And humans weren't the ones who were about to sentence her Stefan to death, so in her opinion, _mortals_ weren't the ones who who had the problem right now.

"Kira?" Savitar suddenly asked.

"What?" she snapped.

"I promise you that I won't allow Stefan's _timoria_ to be fatal."

She caught her breath.

"You what?"

"I can't blatantly contradict the Council's vote without appearing biased, but I can judge if his punishment is too harsh or not, and I won't allow him to die. You have my word."

She flushed, not quite able to get past the fact that she'd slapped the man who had just promised to save Stefan's life across the face not a minute ago. Savitar, however, again seemed to know what he was thinking, and his lips curved in a kind of crooked half-smile that made her blush deepen.

"I knew why you wanted to save him before you asked me, I just wanted to hear you say it."

He paused.

"For a human, you're okay I guess. Though if you slap me again, we're going to have to have words."

"S-sorry about that," she stammered. "I didn't really plan on doing it. I just-, when you-"

"I understand."

His eyes softened just the tiniest bit, and his smile lost just a sliver of its hard mockery.

"If it was Syri's life in danger, I would do whatever it took to get her back, to keep her safe."

The smile turned wry.

"Even slap a not-god."

Kira hadn't thought she could blush any harder, but oh, she'd been wrong. Her cheeks burned crimson and she ducked her head to hide behind her hair as Savitar laughed. The sound of Vane and Bride's laughter as it joined his made her start though. She'd completely forgotten they were there, which was quite a feat, considering it was their living room she was standing in.

"Don't worry about it," Vane said, before she could apologize for arriving unannounced. "It's actually Fang's fault if you really think about it. Most things are."

He stepped forward and offered her his hand.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

Kira hesitated before nodding, though she turned to find Savitar first. She let out a small "oh" when she realized he was already gone.

"I didn't even say thank you," she murmured, not sure such paltry words could even begin to describe what she owed the man.

"Don't worry about it," Vane said. "He knows."

"But I-," she started. "I-. Thank _you_ Vane, Bride. For everything."

Vane just smiled.

"Anytime, Kira. And I mean that. Stefan's lucky to have a mate like you."

This time, when he offered his hand, she took it.


	23. Chapter 23

It was ironic, really. He'd spent the last century or so not caring whether he lived or died, but now that he had Kira, the woman he'd been waiting his whole life for, who he wanted nothing short of forever with, his death was imminent.

Someone, somewhere had to be getting a kick out of this.

He sighed as he closed the front door behind himself, knowing that he probably owed said woman an apology. She'd tell him she didn't need one, that she knew he had a lot to deal with right now, but it didn't mean _he_ didn't need to say the words. He'd spent most of the week by himself, thinking or trying not to think, in turn, and he knew she worried when he was gone. The fact that she was worried about _him_ and not herself made his heart clench and his stomach twist at the same time.

The fact that his death would kill her, too, made him want to retch.

That had been the hardest thing to accept, and if he admitted it to himself, he hadn't really done even that yet. Before he'd mated her, he'd wanted nothing more than to complete the blood bond, to seal her to himself in every way possible. The thought of being linked to her on such an irrevocable level had satisfied some sort of primitive and savage need inside of him that he hadn't even known he possessed. Now though...he would have done anything to take it back. Anything to keep her from having to suffer for his own sins.

He'd moved past anger, at least the anger associated with Ekaterina and the Omegrion. The fact that she had betrayed him and the fact that the Council was made up of a bunch of egotistical and ruthless bastards had long since stopped bothering him. No, the fury he felt now was for himself. He'd told Kira he'd gotten over his self-disgust and guilt, and he had, but that was before he'd learned she was going to _die_ because of him.

Like he said, he owed her an apology.

Grimacing at the understatement, he made his way through the foyer, the frown deepening when he felt the cool air slide over his skin. If even he thought it was cold, then Kira had to be wearing a damned parka by now. But, of course, she would never complain to him, and the fact that he didn't have a thermostat in the house meant she couldn't have fixed the problem on her own. He made a mental note to remedy that though, he thought morbidly, it probably wouldn't matter in a week or so, anyway.

The sound of voices in the living room told him that Draven was here as well, although he wasn't really that surprised. He'd been here instead of at his own apartment almost all week, trying to pretend he wasn't hovering, and fussing over everything. Before, it would have annoyed Stefan to have someone in his space, worrying, pestering, but now, he just found it comforting. Not that he would ever admit that to Draven, but that didn't make it any less true. The silent show of support was something he'd come to depend on. The fact that the falcon treated Kira the same way an overprotective mother bear did her cubs didn't hurt either. He was constantly pressing her to get out of the house, to watch a movie with him, to do anything, really. He made her smile, and he made her laugh, and that was something Stefan would always be thankful for.

"-have to tell him."

"He's going to bite my head off!"

He paused outside the living room, his head cocked. Of all the things Kira was, _argumentative_ was not one of them. Curiosity overcame him, and he took a quiet step closer, listening.

"You saved his life."

"I completely ignored what he told me to do."

A very bad feeling started to coil in Stefan's stomach. There was only one thing he'd ever told Kira expressly not to do, and he had a feeling that that was what they were talking about. Besides, how many other people of their mutual acquaintance needed their lives saved? Draven's social, or rather acquaintance, circle, might have been extensive, but Kira's certainly was not, and they did not, by any means, overlap. Except for him, that was.

"You're not his slave, Kira. You can do whatever you want, like marry me, for instance. I keep telling you we can run away to Vegas together, and he'd never know."

"Yes, he would, because you keep telling him we're going to do it every chance you get. But that's not the point, Draven. I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, but that doesn't change the fact that he's going to be furious."

"Then he's an idiot. You saved his life, and the only response he should have is to worship the goddamned ground you walk on."

"But-"

"This isn't about whether he's going to upset or not, Kira, and you know it. Tell me what's really going on. I can't fix it if I don't know what it is."

There was a brief pause, and Stefan heard her sniffle a bit. He forced himself not to go to her.

"I'm worried about him," she finally whispered.

"Well he was going to die, and he's still going to get the hell beat out of him by whatever punishment the Council assigns him, so that's perfectly normal."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Stefan found himself rolling his eyes. Leave it to Draven to broach the most delicate of topics in the most abrasive manner possible.

"That's not what I mean. It's-, he's _different_, Draven. It's not just that he was worried about dying, or that he needed time to think about it. He's changed somehow. Ever since you told us that Ekaterina was back, he hasn't been the same, and really, why should he be? He mourned her for his entire life and locked those emotions up in some part of him even I haven't been able to fully reach, yet. And now, out of nowhere, she comes back and throws everything, all the pain, all the suffering, all the _guilt_ back in his face. It's broken him somehow Draven, and I don't know how to fix it."

She was crying now. He could hear it, could picture the tears as they pooled in her eyes.

"He's hurting, and I don't know how to help," she whispered. "I can't help, and it _kills_ me. Even worse, I'm part of the problem. _No_, don't try to deny that. I know how horrible he felt when he thought I was going to die along with him. For the last few days, every time he looks at me, it's with so much guilt that it makes me want to cry. And you know that he still thinks he doesn't deserve me. Stupid leopard."

He could hear the smile in her voice, even through her tears, and his heart clenched.

"Doesn't he know it's the other way around?"

"Kira-"

"I'm losing him. He's drifting away from me without him even meaning to. He's retreating back inside of himself into that place where I can't follow him, and it scares me more than anything else ever has. Even when this all blows over, even when all of this is gone - I don't know if that will fix it. I'm losing him Draven, and I don't know if I'll ever get him back."

He couldn't take it anymore. If he heard her sniffle one more time, or heard her hold back one more sob, he was going to retch. He slammed open the door to the living room.

"_Gatáki_," he growled.

Her head jerked around to meet him, and even through the tears that shimmered in her grey eyes, he could see the exact moment she realized he'd been listening. Her lower lip trembled, and it was all he could do to hold back a snarl.

"_Gatáki_," he repeated, starting to stalk forward.

He flicked a glance in Draven's direction, but the falcon was already gone, and he refocused on Kira. He held her eyes with his and didn't waver once as he moved towards her. Slowly, he rounded the back of the couch, his steps inaudible against the thick cushion of the rug as he took slow, measured steps that he usually reserved for hunting.

Seeing Kira so broken had roused something inside of him. It triggered every feral instinct he had, and right now, all he could think about was _mine_. She was his, goddamn it, and he wasn't going to let her think otherwise for another second. He would _show_ her that they belonged together. Whatever happened with the Omegrion, and whatever happened with Ekaterina, she was his, and he was hers, and that was never going to change.

"You think you will lose me," he growled softly, warningly.

It wasn't anger that coursed through his veins right now, nor lust, though there was a healthy portion of that. It wasn't frustration or worry or guilt or any of the other emotions that he'd struggled so long with. No, it was something deeper, rawer than that. It was the basic need to reaffirm that when he'd said _I will walk beside you forever_, he'd _meant_ it. Right now, the only thing that existed in the world was her. It wasn't desire, it was _need_. Need so powerful and aching that he trembled from the force of it.

"Stefan," she whispered. "I-"

He silenced her with a kiss. He covered her mouth with his and after that, everything else ceased to matter. Heat burned through his veins, and he groaned as she fell into him, every soft dip and curve of her body pressed intimately against his much harder one. Her hips against his, her arms around his neck - he couldn't get close enough to her, though it didn't stop him from trying.

"Kira, dearling," he gasped against her lips. "Never doubt this, never doubt _us_."

"Stefan-"

"Don't say anything, just _feel_."

He fastened his mouth back over hers, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and taking every bit of sweetness she had to offer before demanding more. He'd only made love to her once since they'd been mated, and that time, he'd been too wrapped up in himself and his emotions to focus on her, on them. He'd needed her to anchor him back to reality, needed to hold onto her when he'd been so very, very lost. But now, when he eased her back onto the couch where he'd kissed her the very first night they'd met, he didn't feel any of that doubt.

He didn't know what had changed. If he was honest with himself, he had to consider the possibility of his death no longer looming his head being part of it, but it was more than that. He still intended to apologize to Kira for leaving her so much on her own this week, but he didn't regret the time he'd spent alone. It'd given him a chance to really _think_ about his life, his past. Since he'd met her, he'd been so caught up in her, in making her his, in giving himself to her in return, that he'd never bothered to think about anything else. And before that, he hadn't been ready to.

He supposed that Ekaterina reappearing had sort of thrown everything back in his face, but he wasn't naïve enough to believe that he couldn't have handled her by simply shutting down his emotions in the same way he'd always done. No, this time was different because of Kira. She'd been changing him slowly since they'd met, and he hadn't even noticed until now. She'd made him whole, completed him, fixed parts of him that he hadn't even known needed fixing, but oddly enough, that wasn't what he was thinking about now.

She made him _better_. She thawed his emotions, his heart. Gave him back the love for life that he'd been missing for so long. More important than that though, she made him want to be more. Not just for her, but for _himself_, and that, he now realized, was the greatest gift anyone had ever given him.

For so long, he'd been so focused on what everyone else needed that he'd never bothered to take care of himself - something he now realized had hurt a lot more than it'd helped. He'd used it as a coping mechanism. He saw that now. He'd thought that if he could fix someone else, then he could avoid fixing himself, and before now, it'd been so easy. His parents, Ekaterina, even Draven. They were all like him - lost, broken, scarred. But then Kira had bounded into his life, all light and life and carefree happiness and an unwavering desire to give _back_.

For the first time in his life, he'd come to care about someone who didn't need to be fixed. The problems she had were ones that she could, and had, handled on her own, and she hadn't needed him to put the pieces back together. Instead, she'd turned around and tried to put _him_ back together, loving him so deeply and passionately that for the longest time, he'd thought that that would be enough. When she'd pushed him for more, pushed harder, closer, he'd pulled away, believing he'd already given her everything he could. And he had. He'd given her every bit of his heart and soul, and she owned them completely and irrevocably. She'd known that too, he now realized. When she'd asked for more, she hadn't been asking for him to give himself to her, she'd been asking him for the opposite. She'd been asking him to let _her_ in.

When he thought back to the day that his parents had died, it was never the crazed look in his mother's eyes or the horror of Ekaterina's scream that he remembered. It was always the look on his father's face. It had been agony and remorse and helpless anger and everything in between, but more than that, it had been love. His father had been every bit as devoted to his wife the moment she tore his throat out as he had been the moment he'd said his mating vows. That one, single look had haunted him for so long that it'd become a part of him. The moment he'd seen it was the moment he'd promised that he'd never allow himself to feel that kind of pain. What he hadn't known until now though, was that it was the same moment he'd promised that he'd never let anyone _else_ feel that way, either, and certainly not about him.

While meeting Kira had changed the first part, it hadn't changed the second. She'd made him dare to love again, made him want to love again. She'd worked her way so effortlessly into his heart that he knew that losing her would break him. Regardless of a mating bond or a blood bond, he couldn't survive without her, and he knew it. What he hadn't known, what he hadn't dared, was to let her love him back. He'd been so afraid for so long to look inside of himself that he hadn't given her the chance to either. He'd expected her to let him give her everything he had without letting her do the same, and before now, he hadn't even known he'd been doing it.

And that, he suddenly realized, was why he suddenly felt so much lighter.

He knew now. He knew that giving didn't work unless he let her give back. She needed to say the words _I love you_ as much as she needed to hear them, needed to know not that he was hers, but that she was his. She'd wanted him to realize that she needed him every bit as much as he needed her, and that sometimes, it was okay to let her take care of him, instead of the other way around.

The rush of that knowledge, far from making him feel weak, made him feel more alive and powerful than he ever had in his life. He wanted to be _everything_ to her, her friend, her lover, her protector. Her entire world. And, for the first time, he wanted that for _himself_. He loved her more than anything, trusted her more than anyone, but this time, he was going to do it _right_. This time, he was going to take the love and the trust that she gave him in return and he was going to _revel_ in it, because what she gave him was irreplaceable, and it made him feel stronger than he ever had before.

" Kira," he whispered against her lips, tender and fierce all at the same time. "_My_ Kira."

And he knew she knew.

Tears glistened in her eyes again, but this time, they were accompanied by a smile so radiant, that he couldn't breathe. Her lips touched his, and for the first time, he let her take control. When he'd kissed her before, he'd been desperate to make sure she knew how much he loved her, needed her. This time, he realized that maybe he needed a little bit of that, too.

Her lips were soft and sweet against his, her tongue exploring with a sensual hesitance that set fire to his blood and sent a wave of tenderness through him all at the same time. Her hands slid into his hair, teasing his scalp, tugging softly, and a low groan escaped his lips. If he lived an eternity, he'd never get used to the effect her innocent sexuality had on him. Already, he was hard, aching to be inside of her, his hips arching into hers of their own violation, rocking, grinding.

But oddly enough, he felt no hurry.

There was no urgency to his movements as he reached to cup her breast, no desperate impatience as he slid his mouth to her neck and teased her skin with his teeth. Desire laced his blood and drugged his mind, but he felt nothing but peace as he held her in his arms. She was his, and he was hers, and this was the way that things were supposed to be. Contentment flowed through him, and he let out a soft purr as he nuzzled his nose against the hollow of her throat.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" he murmured.

"Hmm, yes," she sighed back, stroking her hand over the nape of his neck.

"Have I ever told how _much_ I love you?"

"Stefan-"

"How much I _adore_ you?"

Her cheeks flushed rosy pink and she buried her face in his neck, but he saw her blush anyway, and his lips curved into a smile.

"You become embarrassed much too easily _gatáki_," he said, amused.

Instead of answering, she pulled back to look at him, her eyes bright as they searched his face.

"What?" he asked, startled by the intensity of her gaze.

"I'm wondering if you know how much I adore _you_."

His breath caught, and he froze for a moment before reaching up to stroke her cheek.

"I do now," he said softly. "I didn't for a long time, but I do now."

And then there was no more need for words.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a fierce kiss, one that made his head spin and his knees weak. Her small hands trailed fire as they made their way down his chest to find the hem of his sweater, teasing the skin below it and making his stomach clench at the sensation. When she whispered the words _bedroom_ and _now_ against his lips, he growled his approval and flashed them there without a second thought.

A flick of his wrist ridded the bed of its heavy coverlet, and he laid her down on the silk sheets. His breathing hitched as he took in the sight of her hair strewn across his pillow, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him. The world could have stopped turning in that moment, and he wouldn't have noticed, which was why when she placed her hands on his chest and pushed, it was surprise more than anything else that let her push him over onto his back so easily.

"_Gatáki_?"

"You're mine, right?"

Curious, he nodded.

"And I can do whatever I want to you?"

His curiosity morphed into white hot desire so fast his head spun. He nodded again, more slowly this time, and watched as she moved to straddled his hips. The look she gave him and the smile that turned her lips made his cock throb painfully, and he swallowed against the urge to beg her to do something, anything. He'd only seen a glimpse of this side of her before, the night he'd mated her, the night with Terra at the club, but he embraced it right now with a fervor that, at any other time, would have made him laugh. But this was now, and as she bent to press her lips to his, laughter was the furthest thing from his mind.

She licked at the seam of his lips until he parted them for her, and he groaned as she tangled her tongue with his. The taste of her was more potent than any drug would ever be, and he could have happily spent the rest of his life just kissing her, and when she pulled her mouth from his, he let out a small growl of complaint.

"Kira-" he started.

She stopped him with a nip to his jaw, and he yelped in surprise.

"What-"

"Tonight, _I_ get to make the rules."

Shit. He'd never thought that lying back and letting someone else take control could be sexy, but the fact that his cock was hard as steel right now told him that his body, at least, did.

"Rules?" he rasped, fighting the urge to rock his hips against hers.

"Mm hmm."

Her nose skimmed down his jaw and neck, her lips teasing and her tongue stroking. He moaned and arched, baring his throat to her in a gesture of submission he would never offer another. Desire was quickly turning into need, and when her teeth raked across his pulse, his hips jerked up against his will. When she obliged him and started to grind her hips against his, he let out a curse and flashed their clothes off without a conscious thought. She stopped immediately, and he near whimpered at the loss.

"Rule number one is no magic," she said, biting his shoulder scoldingly.

"Kira, dearling-, _god damn_."

Her hand had closed around his shaft, and the feel of her fingers exploring with hesitant curiosity pushed him right to the edge of release, one that should have taken him much longer to reach. But it hadn't, and he knew, more than he had ever known anything else, that it was Kira that had taken him there. He wasn't stupid, the fact that she was tracing the head of his cock with her thumb right now had a whole hell of a lot to do with it, but with any other girl, it would never have been enough. The fact that this was his mate and more importantly, that he'd finally understood what that meant not with his mind or even his heart, but with his soul, was what had him groaning and biting his lip to stave off his orgasm.

He cursed and growled as her lips met is neck.

"Kira," he rasped warningly, moving his hands to grip her hips.

The hand circling his cock dropped away immediately, and he groaned in frustration. Damn, but riding the edge of his release was the most pleasurable torture he'd ever experienced. Before he could say anything though, she took his hands in hers and led them up to the headboard.

"Rule number two is no touching," she whispered.

Holy fuck.

He gritted his teeth and obeyed, gripping the headboard so tightly he could feel the wood straining under his hands. He watched through hooded eyes as she slid down his body, her lips pressing soft kisses to his throat, his chest. She paused when she reached his stomach, taking the time to trace every dip and curve of his abdomen with her lips and tongue, making his muscles convulse and clench under her touch. Gods, what he wouldn't give to feel her mouth just a little bit lower. But she wanted this by her rules, and-

She trailed lower, placing a sharp nip to his hipbone, and he let out an expletive.

"Please," he gasped. "Kira, love-"

His plea ended on a strangled cry as her mouth closed over his shaft. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain shot up his spine, radiating through every point in his body until he was nearly incoherent. The fact that her movements were hesitant, unlearned, only made it better. Knowing he was her first, her _only_, made the satisfaction he got out of it multiply exponentially, and he let out a hoarse groan to show his approval.

"Kira," he rasped.

She hummed in response, and he nearly came.

Every cell in his body at that moment was concentrated on keeping himself under control. The gentle caress of her lips and her tongue, and dear gods, her throat around his cock was enough to drive him mindless. He tried to remember to keep his hands still, to not use his magic, but when her tongue dipped into the slit at the head of his cock, he lost it.

"_Mate_," he growled.

He grabbed her and flipped so that she was under him, locking his mouth with hers and thrusting into her all in one movement. She gasped in surprise against his lips, and he growled in satisfaction when that gasp morphed into a whimper as he thrust, hard, into her.

"Tease," he snarled.

She let out another whimper in return, and damn, but that turned him on. His hips moved of their own violation, his mouth desperate as it covered hers. When her legs moved to circle his hips, and he felt her hands in his hair, every semblance of control he'd held on to disappeared.

"Mine," he rasped in her ear, thrusting deeper, harder.

She shuddered underneath him, her walls convulsing around his cock. Her tongue stroked against his as her hands tugged at his hair, and he groaned. He wasn't going to last much longer.

"Mine," he said again, more forcefully this time. "Mine. Say it."

She gasped, her eyes glazed with pleasure as she looked up at him.

"Kira," he growled, stilling.

She mewled in distress, lifting her hips, trying to entice him to move.

"Kira."

"Yours," she gasped. "Yours."

He snarled in approval and slammed into her. She cried out, shuddering underneath him as her orgasm swept over her, his name tearing itself from her lips. Pure animal satisfaction pulsed through his blood, and he kept thrusting, drawing out her release. Only when she stilled, panting and exhausted beneath him, did he allow his own to take over.

Pleasure like he'd never known coiled through every part of his body, and his body shook from the force of it. Incoherent mumblings fell from his mouth, the only word he was able to discern from any of it was _goddess_. When it finally passed, he collapsed next to her, gasping for breath.

With the last of his strength, he pulled her towards him, tucking her head against his chest and pressing reverent kisses to her temple, her hair.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Hmm, my Stefan," she mumbled sleepily, snuggling closer. "My Stefan, my love."

He smiled at the possessive tone in her voice, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Yours," he agreed softly. "Forever."


End file.
